


Things Stiles Learns About Derek (and maybe about himself, too)

by s4m4ndriel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Future Fic, Guilty Stiles, Hale Family Feels, M/M, Multi, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, post 3b, ptsd mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 12:05:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 72,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4100353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s4m4ndriel/pseuds/s4m4ndriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If anything can change a person, it's sacrificing yourself to a giant magical stump in order to save your father and your friends parents from a dark druid. And then being possessed by a demonic fox spirit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles is absolutely losing his mind. 

Before the Nogitsune, before the sacrifice to save their parents, before Scott was bitten, Stiles was used to himself. He was accustomed to being a complete and total spaz. Sure, it wasn't the easiest thing to deal with; constant distraction, minimal social interaction, virginal status, et cetera, but it was his identity. Being called crazy was a part of his life, and eventually he accepted it. 

If anything can change a person, it's sacrificing yourself to a giant magical stump in order to save your father and your friends parents from a dark druid. And then being possessed by a demonic fox spirit. 

For the most part, Stiles is still Stiles. He still sucks at lacrosse. He still loves Scott like a brother. He still can shoot back sarcastic remarks in record time. But after the possession and Allison's death, some things changed. Stiles hadn't always had the best memory, but he finds himself being especially forgetful. He zones out and loses minutes, sometimes hours, and experiences the most panic attacks he's had since the few years surrounding his mother's death. And then there are the nightmares. His father, along with Chris Argent and Melissa, being buried under pounds of soil in the root cellar. Hands that aren't his own twisting a sword in Scott's stomach. The people he loves, his pack, being hurt because of him. As time goes on things just get worse, and there's only so many sleepless nights one teenager can handle before shit hits the fan.

Stiles is losing his mind. 

\-----

As it happens, in the first instance of good luck Stiles has had in years, shit doesn't actually hit the fan. Stiles had half expected to pass out in the middle of a supernatural battle, or have a panic attack driving an injured werewolf to Deaton's. It seemed silly to complain to anyone about what was going on when everyone was dealing with their own grief (partially because of him) so he hadn't really told the pack anything. 

But because it is in fact his life, and he can never fully get away with anything, it all builds up until one day he sits down on his bed to do some reading and, the next thing he knows, he's being snapped back into reality by a confused and slightly worried looking Derek. Stiles at least has the decency to be startled, with Derek appearing out of nowhere and crouching in front of him, and jumps back a few inches. "Derek? Where did you come from?" 

"Stiles, I've been here for two minutes trying to get your attention. What was that?" Stiles glances around the room, first noticing the book abandoned on the floor, then the lower level of light coming in through the window. He checks his phone for the time and realizes he's been sitting here for over an hour and doesn't remember any of it. Usually he will snap out of it if he hears something, like his dad's footsteps or his phone going off, but he has three text messages from Scott, and Derek may be freakishly nimble for his size but jumping in through the window is not a silent affair. "Hey," Derek snaps to regain his attention, "are you okay?" 

"Oh, yeah. Fine. Dandy. Why are you in my room again?" Derek has stood up and taken a few steps back, leaving some room for Stiles to stand, and when he attempts to he nearly blacks out. Derek reacts quicker than Stiles can and catches both of his elbows before his knees can go out and drop him on the floor. Sitting back on the bed, Stiles looks up at Derek and definitely does not blush, like at all. "Okay so maybe less than dandy. You still haven't answered my question." 

Derek gives him a pointed look but Stiles doesn't say anything, just raises his eyebrows and motions for Derek to speak. After huffing a sigh, Derek relents. "I'm here because Scott is still out of town and I didn't want to interrupt his vacation, but Cora and I are going to start rebuilding the house in the preserve. I just thought I should let you know." His arms are crossed, but he doesn't seem angry, more... shy? Reluctant? Stiles isn't very well versed in interpreting non-violence in Derek's body language. "Now, would you care to explain what just happened?" He waves his overly muscular arm in Stiles' direction. 

"Nothing happened," Stiles says, reaching to pick up the book from the ground. He tries to stand again, bracing himself in case he swoons, but feels a lot steadier. "I'm just tired. I haven't been getting enough sleep, what's new?" He passes Derek to place the book on the shelf along the wall. The actual meaning behind Derek's words sink in then, and he turns to face the man. "Wait, what? You're rebuilding the Hale house? Does that mean Cora is staying this time?" 

"Yes. We're starting the renovation soon but it'll take some time." Derek relaxes minutely, but still looks uncomfortable, almost exasperated, like he's not just trying to convince Stiles but also himself. Stiles admittedly does not understand the relationship between the siblings. What he does know is that he likes Cora around, and if it means Derek will stop being a grumpy loner in a ridiculously under-decorated loft, then Stiles is all for it. 

"Cool, cool. Well I'll pass that on to Scott when he gets back." Melissa had decided that even werewolf shenanigans couldn't get Scott out of visiting his 87 year old Nana in SoCal for a week. "Uhm. And Isaac." At the mention of the beta Derek stiffens back up. Isaac hadn't gotten over Derek kicking him out of the loft (even though it was for his own protection, even Stiles knew that) and after Allison died, he started staying with Chris Argent. Stiles thought it was a little strange but couldn't begrudge either of them the comfort (especially when it had been his own fault). 

Derek moves to the window, but pauses before vaulting out. He turns towards Stiles with a frown. "Get some sleep." He's gone before Stiles can make any sort of retort. 

Without Derek to take up any of his attention he feels the full weight of his exhaustion. Laying down still in his day clothes, he hopes to pass out and enjoy a night without nightmares. Instead, he is greeted by visions of ghosts wandering darkened hallways and the smell of smoke coming from the walls.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles continues to avoid telling Scott about the nightmares and panic attacks, but it seems like he's catching on. There are only so many times Stiles can dodge Scott's movie nights and late night study sessions. Scott is too nice of a person to say anything until Stiles brings it up, though, so he's not too worried about it. 

The only person it's impossible to hide from is the Sheriff, partly because he knows Stiles so well, but also because half of the time he's woken up by his son's frantic screaming. Eventually, Stiles learns if he sleeps on his stomach, his voice will wake himself up before it wakes his father up. After that he receives less worried looks at breakfast, but the downside is that the nightmares are more frequently followed by panic attacks if he wakes up alone.

He starts taking naps during the day; after school or whenever his father is still at work and the house is empty (he sleeps on the couch instead of his room because it's brighter in the living room, but he can barely admit that to himself, it sounds so pathetic). He sets an alarm to wake him up every 45 minutes to keep himself from completing his sleep cycle, hoping this will reduce the chance of having nightmares. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. 

One particular day he passes out on the couch after school and is so exhausted he forgets to set his alarm. 

He's in the middle of a nightmare about a feral Boyd ripping apart Scott's torso when he's awakened by a loud thump. He stays in his position on the couch and watches the stairs, frozen by leftover terror from the dream mixed up with terror over who is in his house. His heart rate is climbing by the second and he's having trouble controlling his breathing. A voice in the back of his mind reminds him that if it's a wolf, he's putting a giant sign above himself that says 'I'm right here! Come and eat me!' but he doesn't have any more time to worry about it because Derek appears at the bottom of the stairs a moment later, frowning (of course). 

"Stiles. What's going on." How is it that Derek can make something sound like a question and a statement at the same time? Stiles, logically, should be relieved that it's Derek in his house instead of a less friendly supernatural creature (let's be honest, Derek is only marginally friendly), but with the dream and the rude awakening he can't calm himself down. He knows that Derek is referring to his heart rate but he can't come up with an answer. He sits up on the couch, swings his legs over and puts his head in his hands. A small part of him feels embarrassed to be having a panic attack in front of Derek, remembering the panic attack that ended in Lydia kissing him, and no, that's not something to think about right now. Jesus. 

Derek steps slowly around the coffee table and stops in front of where Stiles sits, head still bowed in his hands. He comes to crouch in front of the boy, and all Stiles can see are his feet and his knees, before he looks up at Derek through his hands. "You are okay. I'm the only one here right now, you are safe. I need you to try to slow your breathing, do you think you can do that?" 

Stiles takes a moment and attempts to get himself together, but it just ends in frustration. He struggles to speak from being so out of breath. "I can't."

"Okay. Can I touch you?" Derek's tone isn't soothing but it's strong and determined. He waits for Stiles to give a weak nod before slowly reaching for one of Stiles' hands and placing two fingers over the pulse point on his neck. Even in his state Stiles is shocked by the gesture, enough that he doesn't fight it or say anything. Derek placing his hand on his pulse, his most vulnerable spot, is completely uncharacteristic, for Derek and for a werewolf in general. "Concentrate on my heartbeat. We are going to take three deep breaths. Ready?" 

Derek's eye contact makes half of Stiles want to shy away, and the other half want to keep it for as long as he possibly can. He closes his eyes to concentrate and takes a deep breath in time with Derek, and he can already feel his heartbeat slowing to match Derek's. They take the second deep breath, and then a third, and when Stiles opens his eyes his vision is clear and he's more or less calm. When he speaks his voice is hoarse and quiet. "How did you do that?"

Derek drops Stiles' hand where he was holding it to his neck and steps back from the couch. "I had panic attacks when I was little. That's what Laura used to do." Stiles is surprised that Derek would share something so personal, and when he looks up at Derek's face his frown seems to say he's surprised at himself. 

Stiles is struck by the overwhelming feeling that personal information offered by Derek should be handled with care. "Thank you." He tries to sound as earnest as possible, because him and Derek are having a moment, but Derek doesn't seem to want them to have a moment, because he won't really make eye contact now. After a long 30 seconds, to allow full appreciation for the now-awkwardness of the situation, Stiles clears his throat. "So, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

Derek gives Stiles a look and crosses his arms, which is at least familiar, before answering. "Cora and I wanted to have a meeting with you all after Scott's shift. Scott tried to call but you weren't answering your phone." Stiles picks up his phone where it was resting on the table, and does indeed have 2 missed calls from Scott and a text from Kira. Oops. 

"Sorry, I meant to set an alarm but I must have just passed out." He's partially glad he didn't set the alarm, though, because he managed to get two whole hours of sleep before being awakened by Derek. Not like the dream would have allowed him to get much more sleep anyway. 

"Still not getting enough sleep?"

"No, not really," Derek's tone is conversational, but the question confuses Stiles. He isn't used to Derek actually caring about his day to day existence, like when he's not in mortal peril, and it makes him suspicious. "Why?"

Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles' tone and expression. "You're having panic attacks and not sleeping. If something's going on with you, you should talk to Scott about it." 

Ah, there it is. "Right, because last time I had panic attacks and nightmares I was possessed by a demon fox and killed a bunch of people. Got it." Stiles hadn't really meant to say it out loud, but whatever, he isn't known for having the best filter, and it's not like it isn't true. Derek's head snaps to face him and he's wearing a frown Stiles has never seen before (which is saying something, because Stiles has spent the better part of the last 2 years cataloging Derek's frowns). 

"No. Because Scott is your alpha and he cares about you. Because eventually something else is going to find its way to Beacon Hills and if you don't take care of yourself you're going to get hurt. Because contrary to what you seem to believe the Nogitsune wasn't your fault and you don't need to serve penance for it. Jesus, Stiles." Before Stiles even has the time to process the shock at Derek's words, he's stepping around the couch to the door. "Get ready, I'm leaving in five minutes with or without you." 

Stiles spends three of those minutes staring ahead, trying to figure out this new side of Derek who calms him down from panic attacks quicker than his father can and yells at him for not taking care of himself. He then realizes Derek was serious about leaving without him and rushes to brush his teeth and grab a pop-tart before meeting him outside.


	3. Chapter 3

The car ride to the preserve is awkward. Thankfully, Derek lets Stiles drive, so he at least has the road to concentrate on. About halfway through the drive Stiles can't take the tension and finally speaks. "You won't tell Scott anything, right?" Not only does he not want Scott to know about anything just yet, but he also doesn't want his best friend hearing it from someone else. 

Derek looks at Stiles for a moment, considering. "No, I won't. But if it gets worse, and something happens, I won't have a choice."

"It's not gonna come to that." This is one of the reasons he hasn't told Scott; he's sick of being the breakable human, the most vulnerable of all of them. "Believe it or not, I don't shatter with every passing breeze."

"Nobody is saying that. Asking for help every once in a while doesn't make you weak." 

Stiles turns to balk at his words, because really? "Oh, that's rich coming from Mr. Stoic Martyr. Jesus every third thing out of your mouth today has been completely hypocritical." He can't help but be irritated. It's not fair of Derek to criticize him for not taking care of himself and for feeling guilty when those are his two favorite pastimes. 

Stiles expects Derek to yell right back at him but instead when he speaks he just sounds tired. "Or maybe I know what it can do to a person and I don't want that to happen to you." They pull up to the site of the house, which is mostly still an empty lot save some supplies that have been gathered, to see Scott, Kira, Lydia, and Cora already waiting. "Like I said, I won't tell Scott, it's not my place. But if you won't talk to him at least talk to someone." 

Stiles doesn't have it in him to fight when Derek is looking so soft and genuine, so he agrees, and they get out of the Jeep to meet with the others. 

Scott, Kira, and Lydia are standing in a loose semi-circle and Cora is off to the side looking, for the most part, bored. When Derek and Stiles approach, Stiles puts his arms up, palm out, at the look Scott gives him. "Sorry guys, I guess I just passed out when I got home and I didn't hear my phone go off." When they reach the group Scott reaches out to Stiles and splays his hand on the side of his collar bone, between his neck and shoulder. Since Scott had acknowledged his alpha status he had become a lot more touchy (not like he wasn't pretty touchy in the first place). 

"You sure you're okay, man? You look really tired." Stiles bats Scott's arm away after his thumb starts to rub cool circles over his clavicle.

"Yeah, I've just been a little behind with school stuff, it's fine." Lydia narrows her eyes at him, but doesn't say anything. He sometimes forgets how observant she can be. He makes a mental note to be careful around her as Derek comes up beside Cora and clears his throat, getting everyone's attention. 

"You all know that we've decided to rebuild the house here." Derek starts, obviously mildly uncomfortable. He looks unsure of how to continue, until he looks over at Cora and she huffs a laugh, presumably at her brother's uncertainty. Scott looks to Stiles in confusion, while Kira smiles encouragingly at Derek.

"Originally," Cora continues for Derek, "the house was occupied by 10 people. Now there is just the two of us. Derek proposed that we open the house up as a sort of headquarters." Stiles smirks at the word 'headquarters' and imagines the werewolf version of the bat-cave in the basement. 

"That seems... permanent." It seems that Scott has inherited Derek's ability to make statements sound like questions. Maybe it's just a werewolf thing? 

Derek sounds more confident in his speech when replying. "This town is going to need to be protected." He shares a look with his sister. "We aren't planning on going anywhere."

"He's right." Everyone turns to look at Lydia, who rolls her eyes. "It only makes sense to have a space for everyone, somewhere to go when something inevitably goes wrong." 

Kira nods along with her. "And we could get Deaton to help, so we wouldn't have to scramble to the clinic all the time." 

"How exactly would that work, like would there just be a bunch of spare beds and a big room with a drain on the floor, or?" Stiles gets a look from Lydia, probably about the drain comment, but whatever, logistics are important. 

"The second floor of the house would be composed mainly of bedrooms, with a larger bathroom and exercise equipment." Derek is looking directly at Scott when he speaks, and Stiles supposes this is because everyone has weighed in except for the alpha. Scott doesn't seem to like the attention, and looks to Stiles, who nods his approval. 

"It's a good idea, as long as you're sure it's what you really want to do." This turns everyone's attention to Derek, who takes a moment looking at them and then settles his eyes on Stiles before he responds. 

"It is." 

"Eventually we'll have to talk about what this means about the packs. Isaac too." Cora doesn't seem to care about the stiffness in Derek's neck that appears when she mentions Isaac. Stiles hadn't even thought about what having Derek's house open to everyone else meant in terms of pack dynamics. It's not like they had ever sat down and formalized anything anyway, Stiles just kind of assumed they were all pack, to varying degrees. 

Scott proposes they meet again soon to talk about more logistical stuff. Lydia declares that as long as she's expected to spend time somewhere she needs artistic freedom, which gets a laugh out of Cora. Stiles offers to drive Lydia home so that Scott and Kira can gaze into each others' eyes and cuddle on the ride back, or whatever. Before they pull out in the Jeep, Derek meets Stiles' eyes through the windshield. Stiles nods reluctantly at him, and looks to Lydia, who is narrowing her eyes at him again. 

When they pull up to Lydia's house 15 minutes later, she hesitates before getting out of the car. "You know you can talk to me about anything right?" 

Stiles smiles at the sincerity in her words. "Of course. And anything I don't talk to you about, you'll find out about anyway."

"Exactly." She smirks and leans in to kiss his cheek before hopping out of the car. Stiles will never understand how such a tiny person can land on such high heels without wobbling once. 

\----

Later that night, after eating dinner and watching X-Files reruns with his dad, Stiles feels exhausted enough to pass out on his bed immediately, but hesitates, afraid he'll just wake up in a few hours from a nightmare and not be able to sleep. While he's still deciding whether or not he should stay up a while longer he falls asleep at his desk. He sleeps through the night for the first time in a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the encouragement guys! Next chapter I hope to really get in to the story :) stay tuned!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a longer chapter, so enjoy!

Over the next weeks, the grey cloud over Stiles begins to recede. The nightmares haven't vanished completely, but he only has them two to three times a week now, and he's almost caught back up with school. After lunch one day, about a week from spring break, while they're stopped at Stiles' locker to pick up his chemistry book (gag) Scott suggests they have a movie night over the weekend. 

"I feel like I haven't spent time with you in ages. It'll just be the two of us, no Isaac, no Kira." Scott unleashes his best sad-puppy look (the dog jokes will never get old) and puts his hand on Stiles' shoulder. Stiles has the overwhelming urge to ruffle the boy's hair. Instead he shuts his locker and faces Scott. 

The thing is, it has been ages since they've spent time together. With all the crazy supernatural drama calmed down he should take every opportunity he can to spend time with his best friend. And since his sleeping pattern has gotten better he figures his chance of having a nightmare, especially at Scott's house, is minimal. 

"Sure buddy, sounds great." Scott busts out his most contagious grin and puts his arm around Stiles' shoulder as they walk down to their next class. When they sit down at their lab tables Stiles thinks that not even chemistry can bring his mood down.

\-----

The weekend arrives quickly, to Stiles' delight, and he arrives at Scott's house with a backpack stuffed full of snacks at noon on Saturday. The two waste no time, sticking with their usual routine. They start with classics (The Princess Bride), move to horror movies (Insidious), and then lighten the mood with a cheesy Rom-Com (10 Things I Hate About You). Fun fact; Scott found out about Stiles' lenient sexuality the first time they watched this movie together and he couldn't stop swooning over Heath Ledger. Now when they watch it, Scott leers and winks at Stiles every time Patrick is on screen until Stiles smacks him with a couch cushion or throws Doritos at him. 

For dinner they order two large pizzas (Scott gets meat lovers, while Stiles opts for sausage and feta) and eat both of them in about 10 minutes, much to Melissa's disgust. They spend the rest of the night re-watching the second and third seasons of The Office, because they obviously love torturing themselves and crying over Jim/Pam. 

Scott is starting to drift off and drool on Stiles' shoulder (which is honestly just begging Stiles to tell more dog jokes) during the season three finale. Stiles pauses the episode with his foot after a couple attempts and wiggles his shoulder to jostle the sleeping boy awake. Scott wakes with a start, then looks guiltily at Stiles. "Sorry, man, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you." 

"It's okay," Stiles grins at Scott's sleepy face, "you do owe me a new shirt though, I'm never gonna get all the drool out." Scott punches him on the shoulder (very lightly, of course) and Stiles moves to pick up some of the abandoned chip bags and soda cans around them. "We should get some sleep." 

Once they get most of the mess picked up they head upstairs to Scott's room and collapse on the bed. Scott passes out immediately, snoring softly, and Stiles follows soon after. 

Sadly, the universe decides Stiles can't have a full 24 hours of happiness.

He's having a nice dream about walking through the preserve, all the plants glowing brightly and he can feel their essence, like he's connected to the earth. He comes upon the Hale house, completely finished, and looks through the window. The entire pack is inside, including his father and Melissa, and Derek is placing a large covered platter on a dining table. He looks up and spots Stiles through the window, smiling. Stiles smiles back at him and moves to go to the door, but stops when he sees Derek's expression turn to that of horror. Stiles turns around, looking to see where the threat is, but when he looks back to the window the house has been engulfed in flames. He jumps back and screams. The door opens and the Nogitsune, the twisted version of Stiles himself, walks calmly out. 

Next thing he knows he's being shaken awake by Scott. It takes him a moment to focus his vision, but when he does all he can make out is Scott's face. He's sitting on the bed in front of Stiles, practically in his lap, and Stiles isn't sure if he sat up when he woke or if Scott pulled him up. One of Scott's hands goes from where it was gripping his shoulder to his face. "Hey, hey, you're good, it was just a dream." 

Stiles falls back against the pillows and Scott moves back to lying next to him. "Sorry, I thought I would be good tonight." He stares up at the ceiling, feeling angry and disappointed with himself. 

"No, Stiles, don't apologize." Stiles knows that Scott is trying to help, but he hates the pity in his voice. "Have you been having them a lot?"

Stiles hesitates before responding. He knows that Scott cares about him, but he's also afraid that things will change between them more than they already have. Stiles hates how careful the group still is around him, avoiding certain subjects, especially anything about Allison. The last thing he wants is any of this supernatural crap to get in between the two of them. But turning to look at Scott, he can't lie about it, even if he would be able to without his body giving him away. 

Stiles explains what's been happening, but not in too much detail, and Scott listens intensely. "Don't worry, buddy, we'll figure it out." Stiles falls back asleep after an hour with Scott's hand on his arm. 

\----

Stiles knows that he shouldn't have expected Scott to keep anything from the rest of the pack, but it's still aggravating to realize that everyone knows when he shows up to school on Monday and Kira pats his back and gives him a sympathetic smile. He goes through the school day getting increasingly irritated with everyone treating him so carefully. The only person who doesn't even bat an eye is Isaac, and Stiles never thought he would be so grateful for his presence.

During his last period everyone gets a group text from Derek, saying that they're beginning to lay down the foundation for the house, and if anyone wants to stop by to help they're welcome. It seems they have a pretty small crew working and Derek is planning on trying to get himself and Cora to do as much as possible themselves. Stiles assumes that the part about helping was geared more towards the other wolves, but Stiles isn't completely useless, and with today's festering irritation he's itching to do something physical and productive. Besides, he knows that Scott is supposed to go to the clinic today, Kira has started training with her mother, and Lydia won't get involved with the house until the decoration stage, so he's really the only one who would show up anyway. 

When the bell rings he heads straight for his Jeep, and sends a text to Scott saying he's going to Derek's, just in case. Scott replies with two messages, the first being a series of question marks, and the second reading "Why??" but Stiles doesn't really know what to say so he puts his phone back in his pocket and sets off to the preserve. 

\----

When Stiles pulls up to the site of the future home he starts to feel anxious about showing up alone. He's not entirely sure Derek won't scoff at him and send him home, or look at him with pity like his friends have all day. He only allows himself to hesitate in the car for a moment, not wanting to let Derek or Cora on to his emotions, and walks to where they're working with an air of determination. 

Cora is nowhere to be seen, and Derek is talking to another man, probably a member of the small work crew. He glances to acknowledge Stiles before finishing his conversation. Stiles waits a few feet away, trying not to feel anxious and pathetic. Derek strides up to Stiles, and he looks relaxed for once, if a bit confused. "I wasn't expecting you here." 

It's not exactly a warm greeting, but it wasn't rude either, so Stiles will take it. "Well, you said anyone could help, so." Stiles fidgets with the hem of his shirt. The sun is out and it's bright which gives Stiles an excuse to squint up at Derek and avoid eye contact. 

Either Derek can sense Stiles' need to do something physical to get the irritated tension out of his shoulders or he is desperate for the help, the latter of which is kind of unlikely, because he just looks at Stiles for a moment, nods, and puts him to work. 

It's mostly laying out pieces of wood and constructing them into footings, which will then be filled with concrete to form the foundation. Derek turns out to be a surprisingly good teacher when the subject has nothing to do with werewolves. He walks Stiles through every step before they start and only gets mildly annoyed when he does something wrong. Eventually Stiles is working with the crew and no supervision from Derek. 

After a few hours the crew starts to dwindle as people are let off for the day. Stiles is tired and grimy, covered in dirt and sweat, but is the last one besides Derek to leave. When he finally gathers the over-shirt he abandoned after the first 20 minutes and his water bottle and tosses them in the Jeep, he hears Derek call out to him. "Thanks for coming today." 

"Yeah, no problem." He goes for nonchalant but only mildly succeeds. "It was very... educational." 

This elicits a small chuckle out of Derek, and Stiles almost misses his next few words out of amazement at seeing Derek, biggest grump in the universe, chuckle. Of all things to ever happen. "I'm glad." Derek's lighthearted expression (since when is Derek even capable of being lighthearted, honestly, this is the weirdest two minutes of Stiles' life) turns slightly more serious. "You're welcome any time you feel like helping out." 

The level of sincerity in the man's tone makes Stiles think that Derek knew he wasn't just coming because he 'felt like it'. Stiles just stares at his feet for a moment before meeting Derek's eyes and saying "thank you." He quickly hops in his Jeep and pulls out of the preserve before he can do or say something absurd and ruin the moment.


	5. Chapter 5

The week-before-spring-break mixture of lots of homework and general procrastination due to the approaching holiday means that Stiles keeps pretty busy. He hasn't really thought about trying to do anything special over the break, mostly assuming the rest of the pack hadn't either, and they would be laying around playing video games or possibly going to the lake. 

Lydia announces at lunch on Thursday that her parents are surprising her with a trip to Hawaii and she's decided that Kira has to come with her. Stiles feels warm inside for a moment, thinking of how quickly they've become close friends and how much they rely on each other, but then remembers that Allison's death was what initially brought them close together, and is left feeling empty and cold. 

Stiles zones out and loses a couple minutes, but is brought back by hearing Kira say "I bet you we can get better pictures in Hawaii than you can in Mexico," and shoving a fry into Scott's face in a way that shouldn't be cute but is actually disgustingly affectionate. 

"Mexico?" Stiles looks to Scott for an explanation. Scott turns to him and says, "about that," before Isaac interrupts. 

"Chris is taking Scotty and I to Mexico on a business trip." Isaac smirks at Stiles over his pizza. Stiles doesn't think Isaac means to be as much of an asshole as he comes off to be, so most of the time he ignores him, but he has the sudden urge to strangle the boy with his own idiotic scarf. Lydia shoots Isaac a look and he at least has the decency to look down at his food and shut up.

The thing is, Stiles can barely find it in himself to be mad. He's a little irritated that Scott didn't say something earlier, though he's not exactly surprised, because any conversation about an Argent is avoided like the plague around him. But Stiles knows that this isn't something he can be included in, and that knowledge is a weight that sits right on top of his throat. He keeps his expression neutral when he replies, but can't think of anything to say other than "oh." 

"Stiles," Scott starts, but Stiles won't let him finish his thought. 

"Scott, don't, it's fine." He makes eye contact with Scott, trying to sound earnest, and it's almost too easy to void himself of emotion and school his heart rate to a normal pace. 

"You could come-" Scott tries weakly, like he already knows it's not a valid suggestion even before Stiles cuts him off.

"No, I can't." Stiles' tone is more tired than anything as he picks up his tray, most of his food untouched, and walks out of the cafeteria.

\----

Luckily chemistry doesn't give Scott the opportunity to try to talk to Stiles about it, and his last period of the day is ceramics, which no one else in the pack took. Usually working with the clay is calming to Stiles and helps him focus, molding or carving the delicate material with extreme detail. Today, it leaves him feeling too calm, empty. When school gets out he goes straight to his Jeep for the second time this week and just sits there. 

The emptiness and lack of nearly-constant energy that's usually flowing through him has his Stiles feeling like a completely different person and disquieted. The irrational part of his brain considers calling his dad, though he's not entirely sure why. Instead, an even more irrational part of him decides to call Derek. 

Derek answers after the first ring. "Stiles." There he is again with the statements-that-are-also-questions thing. Stiles is mildly surprised that he answered so quickly, or even at all, before remembering that he could be calling with a supernatural emergency at basically any time because that is just their lives. 

"Need any help today?" His voice sounds flat even to his own ears. He's suddenly very glad he didn't call his dad or any one else in the pack or they would have noticed and he would have to deal with even more worry and pity. 

"If you're offering." It's harder to decode Derek's tone over the phone but he almost sounds hesitant. Maybe Derek knows Stiles better than he originally thought. 

"Be there in 10." Stiles doesn't give Derek time to respond before he's hanging up and pulling out of the school lot, not bothering to text Scott this time. 

\----

Derek is waiting for Stiles when he pulls up. He isn't smiling, exactly, but his face is open and light in a way Stiles isn't used to. He thinks working on the house and having a goal, along with having Cora around, is definitely good for Derek. "Mixing and pouring concrete?" Stiles says as he hops out of the Jeep and approaches Derek. 

Derek raises his eyebrows at Stiles and the boy finds himself blushing the tiniest bit under the scrutiny. This makes Derek actually smile, before leading Stiles to the site where Cora and the crew are filling in the footings with the mixture. 

Working with the concrete is more physically demanding but less mentally demanding than constructing the footings, but someone has a dinky little radio turned on to a classic rock station and Stiles lets himself concentrate on the music. It's not exactly relaxing but it's exactly what Stiles needed. Cora and Derek don't speak a whole lot, but Stiles doesn't feel pressure to talk either. 

Eventually the crew dissipates and Stiles finds himself alone with Derek and Cora. Stiles is feeling a whole lot more like himself, but also starving, having not really eaten lunch. His stomach rumbles loudly as he's taking a drink of water and Cora snorts at him. "We should get something to eat." Stiles likes how straightforward Cora is compared to Derek (and Peter); he wasn't sure if the trait was possible in a Hale. 

Derek walks over and nods, looking to Stiles. "I'm totally disgusting, I need a shower," he starts, but he remembers that his dad is working a double shift and won't be home until after midnight, and he doesn't really like the idea of going home to an empty house for the night. "But we could get some take out and meet up at my house?" Stiles isn't really sure when Derek and Cora became his idea of comforting company or if he had ever actually invited either of them to his home voluntarily. 

He has a moment to panic, thinking that he's crossed some sort of weird boundary, before Cora grins and chucks her sweat rag at him. "Sweet," she says as she walks backwards towards where the Camaro is parked. "We'll see you there." 

Derek looks back at her with a mix of shame and fondness before focusing back on Stiles. "I'll text you." Stiles nods at him before getting in his Jeep. He takes a moment to wonder exactly what he's gotten himself in to before backing out and heading home. 

When he gets to the house he jumps immediately in the shower. He takes a minute to decide which soap to use, worrying about assaulting the wolves with too strong a smell, before feeling ridiculous and using the same soap he uses every day. He notices a text from Derek when he gets out of the shower, reading 'Pailin Thai or Puerto Vallarta?' and responds 'Thai, lemon pork pls' before heading in to his room to get dressed. 

He can't say he's totally surprised when he's downstairs a few minutes later and Derek and Cora let themselves in, though it is new for Derek to be using his front door instead of the window. Stiles takes about half a second to think about how naughty that sounds before stomping all over that train of thought, thank you very much brain. He's getting a glass of water at the sink when Derek and Cora enter the kitchen, engrossed in some sort of argument, with two giant bags in hand. The siblings continue to bicker back and forth at each other and Cora looks up at Stiles with a pained expression. "Stiles, Derek refuses to believe that if he was nicer to servers he would get free food, please educate him." 

Derek just scoffs as he opens the bags and starts setting out food on the dining table, looking mildly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. "It's not that I don't believe you, I just don't think it's worth the trouble." 

It's Stiles' turn to scoff. "Since when is free food not worth a little schmoozing. Besides, I bet all you have to do is like, make more than two seconds of eye contact anyway. It's better to use your gift for good instead of evil." 

"Oh, because scamming innocent people out of an extra order of curly fries is using it for good?" Derek raises his eyebrows at Stiles in a playful gesture, and Stiles needs to stop being surprised every time Derek exhibits moods and emotions other than angry and brooding. Stiles is starting to realize he doesn't really know Derek as well as he thought. 

"Notice how he says people and not women, because of the time-" Cora is cut off by Derek tossing an empty container at her head, and though she catches it in enough time, she doesn't continue her thought, just smirks at the look Derek tosses her. 

"Can we eat, please?" Derek gestures to the food now all laid out on the table a little desperately. It seems Derek's own physical allure isn't something he likes to talk about, which strikes Stiles as unusual considering he is actually the epitome of Hot Werewolf. 

"Okay, Sourwolf." Stiles isn't even sure what compelled him to use the nickname, but it gets a snort out of Cora, and it's nice to notice the glare he gets from Derek doesn't have any heat behind it. 

Stiles can sometimes forget how much werewolves can eat. Even Cora puts down an incredible amount of tacos and enchiladas. Derek seems to have gotten about a third of the menu's worth of Thai food, and explains "I know you like Pailin, but Cora hates Thai." Stiles totally doesn't blush at all at the fact that Derek knows about his obsession with the restaurant, instead laughing at the way Cora sticks her tongue out at their pad thai. 

The meal is really nice, and Stiles finds himself relaxing into the bickering that ensues. He's never seen Derek happier or more relaxed than he is around Cora. Stiles is reminded that from the time he met Derek looking for Scott's inhaler until pretty recently, they've had daunting threats hanging over their heads, almost constantly. People act differently under extenuating circumstances, and Stiles may be wrong in assuming that bitter and brooding is Derek's default. 

After what only feels like a couple hours a yawn has him looking at the clock and realizing it's already after 10. Derek's eyes follow his to the clock and he starts to bunch up the leftover bags and napkins. "We should get going, I didn't realize how late it was." Stiles finds himself searching his mind for some kind of excuse to keep them there for longer, but comes up short, remembering a history paper due at the end of the week that definitely cannot be written on the history of circumcision, and therefor requires actual research. 

"If I didn't have homework-" he starts to say, standing and rubbing the back of his neck, but doesn't have a chance to finish his sentience before Cora interrupts.

"Stiles. Shut up. It's late." She throws a smirk at him and grabs Derek's keys off of the table to head out the door. Stiles guesses in some alternate universe where werewolves didn't exist she would be an extremely commanding boss. 

"Rude." Derek says the word under his breath, Stiles barely catches it, while finishing cleaning off the table. Stiles just stands there behind his chair and Derek brings the bags to the trash under the sink. He then has the presence of mind to not be rude himself and pay Derek for the mounds of food he brought. Stiles walks to the stairs and reaches into his forgotten backpack for his wallet. "Don't worry about it." He turns back to Derek to argue but the sound of the sink running cuts him off. When he walks back in to the kitchen Derek is washing his hands. This is probably the closest to domestic Stiles has ever seen Derek, and it puts a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

Before he has too much time to dwell on it, though, Derek dries his hands off and turns to Stiles. Derek seems to be hovering in the space between being comfortable in the house, with Cora undoubtedly waiting for him outside, but not wanting to seem like he's too comfortable, in case he's unwelcome. Derek clears his throat and Stiles smirks at him and the obvious awkwardness of the situation. Derek retaliates by throwing the dish rag at Stiles' head (which he miraculously manages to catch somehow). "What is it with Hales and throwing things at me?"

Derek looks at him smugly for a moment before his expression tightens. "Scott told me what they're doing over spring break." Stiles sighs and sags a little knowing that Derek knew of Scott's plans with Isaac and Chris Argent before he did, but reminds himself there's a totally valid reason behind it. 

"And Lydia and Kira are going to Hawaii with Lydia's parents, so it looks like I'll be playing COD in my boxers all week." Stiles really doesn't mean to sound so pathetic but it definitely comes out that way. He looks back at Derek, internally cringing and expecting pity, but Derek just seems thoughtful. 

"You could always come out to the preserve." Stiles hadn't really thought about it other than to assume that he would annoy the hell out of Derek if he were there for more than a few hours at a time. He looks Derek in the eye for a moment, searching for any signs that the offer is insincere, but finds nothing. 

"Thank you." Stiles isn't sure if Derek knows he's thanking the man for more than just the invitation, but he doesn't say anything about it. "I might take you up on that." Derek smiles, just the tiniest softening around his mouth, and the moment is interrupted by Cora honking the Camaro's horn from outside. 

Derek huffs a sigh and heads out of the kitchen to the door; Stiles follows to lock the door behind him. When Derek reaches the door he half turns back to Stiles and says, "get some sleep," before disappearing into the night (curse black leather jackets and dark sports cars). Stiles spends no more than 60 seconds standing at the door and listening to the soft rumble of the Camaro's retreat before closing and locking the front door. 

\---

Stiles is still awake and doing homework on his laptop when his Dad arrives home around three hours later. The sheriff comes up the stairs and peeks in to Stiles' room through his open door. "What are you still doing awake?" He's whispering as if the house is asleep and if he speaks at too loud a volume he'll wake it up. 

"Homework," Stiles says over a yawn, "but I'm gonna call it a night. Everything all right at the station?" Stiles never asks his father 'how was work' because, being the Sheriff, the question would never elicit a positive response. 

"Just fine." His mouth tightens around the edges and he looks down, but Stiles isn't really in the mood to interrogate him, at least not at 1 AM. "G'night kid." Stiles ducks out of the way of his father's hand but not in time to completely escape the hair-mussing. The sheriff turns with a light smile and heavy footsteps down the hall to his own room. 

After brushing his teeth Stiles collapses on his bed and thinks over his day. It fully strikes him how odd and backwards it was that after being irritated with Scott and the rest of his pack his first instinct is to turn to Derek, twice this week in fact. Thinking about Derek will never let him relax enough to sleep, though, so he pushes the thought out of his mind and concentrates on loosening all of his muscles, head to toe. He falls asleep after about 20 minutes and dreams of absolutely nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started working full time so I'll likely be updating closer to once a week now, every two weeks at the very least, hopefully y'all can forgive me!


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles wakes with a start the next morning to his father knocking loudly on the door. "Get up if you don't want to be late." He checks his phone to see his alarm went off 15 minutes ago but somehow didn't wake him up. Despite the late start he feels fully awake and goes through his morning routine (shower, clothes, cereal, teeth) in record time. He gets a text message from Scott somewhere between waking up and eating breakfast asking him to meet up before school for just a moment. Stiles is sure he's going to be assaulted by Scott's 'apology eyes' (which can be even more effective than his 'puppy eyes' when used correctly). 

Stiles pulls into the parking lot 10 minutes later to see Scott sitting on the steps up to the door, looking mildly pathetic. He braces himself before getting out of the Jeep and approaching. Scott looks up to Stiles when he gets to be close but undoubtedly identified him before he even pulled in. When Scott doesn't immediately say anything, Stiles feels compelled to speak. "What's up?" 

"Stiles, I'm really sorry I didn't tell you about the trip." Scott doesn't stand but maintains eye contact. "If I had known that Lydia and Kira were leaving I wouldn't have told Chris I would go. It's just with Isaac..." Scott trails off and looks hopelessly at Stiles.

"It's okay." Stiles feels slightly bad about his reaction the day before; he hadn't wanted Scott to feel too guilty. "You shouldn't have to worry about me when you make your own plans." It's mostly the truth and Scott doesn't seem to detect the difference. 

Scott's face does this thing where his mouth is smiling but his eyebrows are still frowning. The warning bell goes off inside the school and Scott stands to walk to English. "I still feel bad," he continues, "what are you gonna do for the week?" 

Stiles hesitates before answering but figures there's no point in denying where he's going to spend the majority of the break. "Derek actually needs help with the house so I'll probably be there for some of it." Scott's eyebrows shoot up and he gives Stiles a look, but when Stiles meets his gaze, he doesn't challenge the matter, just mutters an 'oh' and frowns a little. "So when do you guys leave?" Stiles asks as they enter the class room and take their seats. 

Scott just has time to say "early tomorrow morning" before the final bell rings and cuts him off. 

 

Later in the day they stop at Scott's locker to switch out his books. "Hey, Isaac is coming over to help me finish up packing and to take my bags over to Argent's to make the morning easier, and I would really like it if you could come." Scott sounds a little hesitant and looks up at Stiles, but Stiles keeps his eyes on the ground in front of him for a moment, to allow himself rational thought before encountering the Puppy Eyes of Doom. When he does look up they're already in full force. "I really want to see you more before we leave." 

The problem with the idea isn't seeing Scott, it's seeing Isaac, but Stiles doesn't say that. He takes a moment to lie to himself by thinking he actually has a choice about accepting the invitation before giving in to Scott's pleading face. "Okay, I'll be there." Scott beams at him and it's momentarily worth the future pain and suffering. Scott closes his locker and they head to the end of the hall, where their classrooms are right next to each others. "Also, I have to stay through lunch to get help from Ms. Saunders with my history paper, but I'll just meet you at your house after school?" Stiles misses the days before Scott had his bike and they used to ride to and from school together in the Jeep. 

Scott nods in agreement and they part ways to their respective rooms. Stiles feels a little lighter and a little heaver at the same time. 

\----

The school day goes by quickly, but without the opportunity to eat lunch, by the time Stiles is at his Jeep and ready to head to Scott's he's starving. He contemplates momentarily texting Derek or Cora to tell them he won't be there to help today, but then wonders if they're expecting him or if they even care that much if he shows up, and chickens out of it. Instead he texts Scott "taking orders for Boomers" before heading off to the drive through. 

Stiles arrives 15 minutes later at Scott's with burgers and curly fries in tow. He doesn't bother knocking on the door and just lets himself in. He encounters Scott and Isaac upstairs in Scott's room. Scott nods as a greeting and Stiles sets the bags down on the dresser to dole out the food. "A double and a chocolate shake for Scott and a teriyaki and a vanilla shake for Isaac." 

Isaac takes the food and looks at Stiles expectantly. "Did you get fries?" 

Stiles just levels him with a look. Scott laughs a little under his breath and shoves the bag containing the three large orders of fries at Isaac. "Did I get fries." 

The afternoon goes a little better than Stiles expected. He makes a valid attempt to be civil and not pick fights, instead looking at Scott for reassuring puppy eyes that he's making the right choice. Isaac, on the other hand, doesn't seem to be trying to be any less of a dick, no matter how much allowance Scott gives him. He continues to make unnecessarily sarcastic comments (which hey, that's totally Stiles' job) and is a really sore loser at Mario Kart. 

After a few hours Melissa gets home and she finds them in the living room. "Hey boys, are you all staying for dinner?" 

"I think that was the plan, if that's alright." Scott seems a little stiff, and Stiles looks at him quizzically, but his attention is still focused on his mother. 

"Well, I'll see if I can scrounge up enough food. Just, honey, remember to be careful with the furniture?" She walks up the stairs, probably to get out of her scrubs, and both Isaac and Stiles turn to Scott. 

This time Scott does look guiltily at Stiles. "Last night I accidentally broke the door on the bathroom." Stiles and Isaac both try to hold back their chuckles to no avail. 

"I thought after all this time and your new Alpha Status you would stop accidentally breaking things." Stiles remembers the dark days of Scott first learning to control his wolf, all of the weird shit in their house he had to explain to his dad. 

"That's just it though," Scott starts, and he looks mildly worried. "I was fine up until I became the alpha. I guess some of it could still be the Nemeton, but..." 

Stiles is about to put his hand on Scott's shoulder and say something reassuring, but before he can, Isaac mutters under his breath. "Anything is better than Derek being the alpha." 

Now, Stiles can admit, Derek made a few mistakes as the alpha. A lot of mistakes. But knowing what he knows now, the comment really pisses him off. Especially coming from Isaac. "Oh, because you would have done any better, with basically being forced into it and no pack to speak of. But you can't see any of that because you're still too butthurt about him kicking you out, even though that was to protect you from the alpha pack. How far do you have your head up your ass, really?" 

Stiles hadn't really meant to say anything, let alone a whole rant, but it all just came out. Scott gives him a harsh look and a shocked "Stiles!" but he shrugs in response. 

"Sorry, I'm calling bullshit. Have fun with Argent in Mexico." Stiles suddenly can't stand to be in the house any more. Melissa is just coming down the stairs as he gets to the front door, and he shouts a "Thanks anyway Ms. McCall!" before heading to his Jeep. He sits for a moment contemplating going home but he's still too irritated to just do homework. On a whim he decides to text Derek, asking if they're still working even though he's sure they've already finished for the day. 

Instead of getting a text back a moment later his phone is ringing with a call from Cora. When he answers he doesn't even have time to get through a hello before she's talking over him. "You know you can come over without the excuse of working on the house, right?" From her tone he can tell she's wearing a smirk, and he's suddenly worried she'll somehow sense his blush through the phone. 

"You guys hungry?"

 

\---

 

Stiles approaches the loft a few minutes later with his arms full of Indian take-out. He hesitates for a moment, feeling awkward, and remembers the last time he was here he was still possessed by the Nogitsune. Repressing the urge to shudder as the cold feeling threatens to engulf him, he decides to let himself in instead of knocking, knowing for a fact that Derek and Cora already know he's there. 

Stiles pulls the huge door aside, steps in, and pulls it back behind him, before waltzing up to where Cora is sitting on the couch. She smiles sweetly up at him for a moment before making a move to grab the bags from his hands. He miraculously manages to pull them from her reach but only just for a second as a moment later she's up from the couch and somehow behind him with all the food in her clawed hands. "Cora," the playful warning comes from Derek who is descending the spiral staircase. "Be nice." 

Stiles turns to say something but his words catch in his throat at the sight of Derek, shirtless, running a small towel through his hair. Stiles quickly schools his heart to a normal rate and clears his throat so the two wolves don't pick up on it and decides to take a bag of food and shove it at Derek, letting the tikka masala do the talking for him. Derek smiles at Stiles and takes the bag with a "thanks" before setting it on the table and walking over to his dresser, hopefully to get a shirt (so Stiles can get his shit together). 

Stiles sets his keys on the table and goes to sit on the couch next to where Cora has already settled back in with her curry. He's surprised to note a good-sized TV sitting on a small wooden cabinet across from him. "Oh, hey, when did you get this?" 

"Last week, I insisted." Cora smiles over at where Derek is now approaching, wearing a soft grey V-neck this time, and he grunts noncommittally. 

Stiles grabs the remote to peruse the channels while letting Derek take what he wants from the rest of the bags of food. He stops at GSN and smiles when he sees the beginning of a Family Feud marathon. Cora groans and tries to snatch the remote from him, but Stiles holds firm. "I'm sorry, who here bought who an extra side order of naan?" Derek chuckles on his other side and Cora rolls her eyes and relents. 

Stiles isn't sure if it was working with them on renovating the house or eating the meal at his house the other night but somewhere recently he's grown more comfortable with the Hale siblings than he could have imagined. He settles between them and doesn't feel any pressure at all to be a certain way. They can sit together and be quiet or they can all yell at the TV at the same time because the number one answer totally should have been broccoli. By the time all the food is gone Stiles notices that they've all gotten a little closer on the couch, with Cora almost leaning against his right side and his and Derek's thighs touching on his left. It's reminiscent of the feeling he used to get being around the whole pack, before everything with the Nogitsune. 

Cora brings him back to reality by getting up off the couch and announcing she's going for a run. When Stiles looks out the window to the setting sun and back at Cora quizzically, she grins at him. "It's better at night when there aren't going to be as many people around." She pulls a hair tie off her wrist and winds her hair up to a loose bun before setting off at a jogging pace out the loft door, closing it behind her.

Stiles looks to Derek and suddenly, without Cora there, feels strange about their proximity. It's not that being close to Derek makes him feel uncomfortable... It's just that being close to Derek makes him feel... Stiles doesn't know what. He also doesn't really want to find out, so after a moment of awkward eye contact Stiles bends forward to clean up some of the abandoned containers on the table in front of them. Derek caches on and grabs the rest of them, standing up and walking through the giant hole in the far wall. Stiles follows him and turns a corner to see a tiny kitchenette tucked against what's left of the other side of the bricks. It consists of a stove, some counter space, a microwave, a refrigerator and a sink, underneath which is a bin that Derek is tossing the containers into. He turns to Stiles and takes the rest of them, tossing them in the bin as well, before righting himself to wash his hands in the sink. Stiles is struck by deja vu for a moment. 

"Stiles," Derek starts, drying his hands off and frowning at the floor. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way." Stiles waits for more but Derek seems a little bit stuck. Instead of interrupting Stiles waits for Derek to collect his thoughts. Finally the man looks up and meets his eyes. "I'm just wondering..." Derek seems to still be searching for the words, but Stiles has an idea of what he's getting at. 

"Why I'm here? Not just today but for the past couple weeks?" Derek sighs and nods, his attention focused on Stiles. "I don't know if I have an answer for you." Stiles reaches to scratch his neck, feeling slightly embarrassed under the scrutiny, but realizes that's not the entire truth. "It's kind of funny, Scott is always the one who trusts people and wants to give them second chances and I'm always the one who doesn't trust anyone, even you, specifically, in the past. But after everything we've been through... It just doesn't seem right to hold it against you anymore." Stiles had been on his way to that revelation in his head but having said it out loud and finding that he means it 100%, he feels a little heavy with the weight of his confession. "And you haven't exactly told me to screw off yet, so."

"I wasn't planning on it." Derek has the tiniest of smiles on his face as he replies but his tone is sincere. 

Stiles stares like a deer in headlights for a minute before muttering "Cool." 

Derek walks past him to the TV again and Stiles follows, reaching in to his pocket when he feels his phone vibrating. He curses when he sees it's his dad calling and that he'd missed a call from him five minutes ago, but picks up immediately. Derek has already muted the TV.

"Stiles?" The sheriff only sounds moderately worried when he picks up so Stiles counts his blessings. 

"Yeah, dad, sorry I didn't hear my phone, what's up?" 

"I just got home and wasn't sure where you were, but when you didn't answer the first time I called Scott and he said you'd left hours ago." 

"Shoot, yeah, I'm okay I'm just at Derek's. Sorry I forgot to text you." Derek's eyebrows go up a fraction of an inch but he doesn't say anything, keeping his eyes focused on the TV. 

"Is something happening?" The tone of his father's voice makes him feel guilty about all the times he had to lie before they let the sheriff in on the supernatural, almost like he might not believe what he has to say. 

"No, everything's fine, we were just eating." He feels a blush creep up his cheeks but isn't sure why because they were literally just eating. 

"Alright, well, don't forget about our plans tomorrow and stay out too late." Stiles assures his dad that he'll be home soon and they say their goodbyes. 

After he hangs up the phone, Stiles walks to the table in front of the couch and grabs his keys. "I should probably head out, my dad and I have big plans tomorrow." Derek turns to him, like he had been giving Stiles as much privacy as he could during the phone call and he was now back to hearing and noticing him, and nods. Stiles shuffles backwards on his feet as he searches for better parting words. "I guess I'll see you on Monday?" 

"Sure, Monday," Derek says from the couch, and with that and a flail of his arm meant to be some kind of wave, Stiles hulks the door out of the way and leaves the loft. 

On his drive home he wonders how far away he has to get before Derek can't hear his heartbeat any more.


	7. Chapter 7

When Stiles was seven he and his mother discovered a mostly secluded beach. Claudia was a slightly scatter-brained woman and would sometimes decide to go to a grocery store 10 miles away just for the heck of it, and she brought Stiles along every time she could, which ended in a lot of random adventures. It was the perfect spot to go on a hot day when the rest of the public areas would be really crowded. When they got home that day they told the Sheriff about it and a couple days later they had a proper beach day. 

Every year on a Saturday in April Stiles and his parents went to that same beach. It was like a family holiday. They would pack up all sorts of snacks and sodas, the sheriff would turn his phone off for the entire day, and his mom would bring magazines to peruse for the short amount of time she had the patience to sunbathe. Their last beach day is one of Stiles' most treasured memories of his mother, before she got sick. 

Claudia died in January the year Stiles turned 11. That April Stiles and his father shut themselves in the house and didn't speak of going to the beach. Neither of them could bear the idea of being there when a year ago she was healthy and now she was gone. The next April was the same. After a couple of years though, when the wounds began to heal and it was something they could talk about again, they decided to keep up the tradition in her honor. 

The first few times were really hard. They couldn't bear to bring all of the beach stuff or stay very long. As the years go on it becomes a happier affair. This year, the first day of spring break, Stiles and his father listen to the Beach Boys and sing along incredibly off tune on their way to the beach. When they get to the beach they lay out a towel and sit together close to the water for a while, talking and not talking. They bring along a small cooler and set aside an Orange Crush for Claudia. 

Before it felt like something keeping him from getting over his mothers death, but this Saturday, sitting in the sand with his father beside him, it feels like remembering her and paying respect to her life and the love she gave him.

Stiles stands and walks to the water's edge. He pulls out his phone and takes a picture of the view, miraculous on such a clear day and completely peaceful. It's an amazing feeling after everything they've been through recently. 

The sheriff stands and Stiles turns back to look at him. "Come on," the man says with a soft and fragile smile on his face. "Let's pack up and get something to eat." He drags Stiles in to a one armed hug and they shuffle over to the cooler to gather up their few belongings. 

They go to Rudy's on the way back and the sheriff enjoys his monthly allotted portion of steak while Stiles opts for a bacon cheeseburger. By the time they get back to the house they're drained from spending the day in the sun and bloated from over eating. The pair spend a couple hours watching Law & Order reruns before heading up to bed. 

That night, Stiles has the first good dream he can remember having in several months. It's less of a dream and more a visit to the past, replying cherished memories of his mother, but without the bittersweet feeling he gets when he's awake. 

 

\---

 

Stiles isn't sure if Derek and his crew work weekends or not, and decides that even if they do, he's taking one Sunday to himself this time. He spends most of the morning and afternoon on the couch with his Xbox and an array of snack foods from the secret stash in his room. 

About an hour before his dad is supposed to get home he starts on dinner, a chicken stir fry and a kale salad. When his dad arrives he eyes the salad suspiciously, but Stiles assures him he can use as much dressing as he wants. "You'll barely taste it, promise." 

The sheriff seems satisfied when all is said and done, finishing off two servings, and eventually shuts himself in his office. For once Stiles doesn't grill him on whatever case he's working on. He's just a little tired of all of the violent and supernatural happenings, thank you. 

Half way into Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure his phone vibrates with a group message from Scott. There isn't any text, just a breathtaking picture of a sunrise, likely taken from a balcony overlooking a pristine beach. Stiles is tempted to reply with his picture of their secret beach yesterday, but remembers Kira's challenge to get the best scenery picture and decides not to reply at all. Being reminded that most of his pack is so out of reach makes Stiles suddenly feel very lonely. 

Stiles focuses back on the movie and manages to fend off the feeling until he gets to bed that night. Despite staying up as late as he could to wear himself out and make sleep easier he finds himself having trouble falling asleep. Picking up his phone from the nightstand, he fiddles around on a few apps, trying to make his eyes tired. 

Stiles has the sudden urge to text Derek, his excuse being he's not sure when he's supposed to show up to help with the house, and also not knowing if Derek is expecting him or not. He sends the message but when he remembers the late hour he curses himself for being so thoughtless and smacks his phone on his forehead. 

Miraculously, Derek texts back within five minutes, replying "Whenever is fine." 

Stiles frowns down at his screen. The answer is surprisingly vague coming from Derek. "When do you start?" 

"The crew gets here at 7." Stiles glances at the clock and winces. It's not like he hasn't done more on less sleep before though. 

"Then I'll be there at 6:45 with coffee. :)" He types, deletes, and retypes the smile a few times and presses send on accident while he's still making up his mind, blaming his sleep deprived brain. After a couple minutes with no reply he sets his phone down and makes another solid attempt at falling asleep. 

\---

Stiles isn't sure if he should be surprised at himself for knowing Derek's coffee order. He texts Cora to make sure and ask what she wants, but it's not Derek's best kept secret that he has a sweet tooth the size of Texas. He picks up a s'mores mocha for Derek, a caramel macchiato for himself and a black tea for Cora. 

When he gets to the site the crew are just arriving, and Derek attempts to reach for his wallet to pay him for the coffee, before Stiles says no as sternly as he can manage and makes his serious face. Derek rolls his eyes in a totally endearing way and mumbles something under his breath. Stiles won't tell anyone this, but the fact that they've bought each other food and not paid each other back makes him feel like they've actually become friends. Not that he doubts they have, but it seems like an achievement to be at this stage with Derek and Cora Hale, so he'll take any validation he can get. 

For how little sleep he gets the work day is surprisingly satisfying. Before they can begin pouring the slab foundation some of the basic plumbing needs to be laid out. Most of that is done relatively quickly, and then they begin pouring out the slab. It's basic and not demanding work, so his lack of sleep isn't as much of a hindrance, and when they're finished he suggests they go to a legitimate restaurant. Cora pouts for a moment but Derek agrees after Stiles suggests they try the Greek restaurant that just opened downtown. Stiles offers to drive and Derek laughs, Honest to God laughs at him, before walking away. 

They stop at the loft so Derek and Cora can change and Derek offers to give Stiles a shirt to borrow because his is the tiniest bit rank. He accepts the offer and attempts to smother his blush, and with the shirt in his hand he starts to get self conscious about how he's going to fit in it. Derek's a pretty buff dude and while Stiles has been filling out more lately with the lacrosse and the running away from bad guys he's definitely not Derek's size. 

He turns away from Derek as he changes the shirt and his blush deepens. When he finally gets it on, though, it's not as loose as he was afraid of it being. It's possible that it's old or in a smaller size, or maybe shrank in the wash, but Stiles will take it. 

When they arrive in the restaurant he feels like he's part of a gang. The matching black V-necks are almost too much but the hostess barely seems to notice the humor in it because she's too busy staring at Derek's everything. When she walks them to their table there's an extra strut in her step, like she's a bird doing some kind of mating dance to show her worth or something, and Cora is trying her hardest to suppress her giggles. Derek looks a little bit like he'd like to strangle something. 

She leaves for about 30 seconds after seating them and comes back to ask if they would like to get any drinks. Derek avoids eye contact when he says water will be fine, and Cora does the same, but Stiles looks her in the eyes and gives her the dopiest smile he can muster, leaning forward and resting his head on his fist. "I'll have a strawberry lemonade, gorgeous." He bats his eyelashes at the not-so-well-hidden shock on her face and she walks away looking slightly deflated. 

Cora bursts out in laughter after she's gone and Derek doesn't say anything, just smiles down at his menu. She doesn't come back for the rest of their meal. 

The food is actually pretty good and the three have a good time despite the irritating start. Stiles is starting to get a better idea of who Derek is when he's relaxed and who Cora is when she's not snarling at him, and the more he sees, the more he likes. They're not as bombastic or silly as he and Scott can be, but they're biting and sarcastic. Stiles doesn't feel like he has to fill every moment with a comment or that he has to be any kind of character around them. 

\--

And so the next few days go just about the same way; Stiles gets up early and picks up coffee, arrives at the site and helps accomplish whatever he can for the day, and the three of them, sometimes with a member of the crew, get something to eat, and Derek picks up Stiles' meal "because you get the coffee." It's making out to be a pretty good spring break, if only for one thing (because Stiles can never have everything); the nightmares are coming back. 

It's not like they had stopped completely, but Stiles had begun to hope he was getting better. He had only had maybe three since the night he spent at Scott's. But he seems to have multiple every night this week despite wearing himself out working on the house during the day and staying up as late as he can at night. He sees Peter murdering countless people and piling them up on his lawn; he sees Scott joining Deucalion and massacring the whole pack; he sees his sword, instead of the Oni's, sinking into Allison's stomach; and a new one is added to the list, rousing him a few minutes before his alarm on Thursday morning: Kate rising up from her grave and tearing Derek to ribbons. 

Luckily his father is already gone that morning, so he isn't subjected to the screaming and thrashing that accompanied waking up from that particular dream. Stiles refuses to analyze it though, buries it under a load of crap, and goes through the motions of his morning routine. He's completely exhausted by the time he gets to the site and he knows Derek can tell but neither of them mention it. They've finished pouring the slabs and are now working on the wall frames while the concrete cures. Working with the rough, dark wood is a lot more demanding and Stiles throws himself in to it, working himself as hard as he can. Cora gives him a couple of curious and slightly concerned looks throughout the day but again says nothing. There's another thing Stiles is learning about the Hales; they value privacy too much to get themselves in to other people's business, and today he's grateful for that. 

The three of them did have standing plans for food after work though, so he heads home just for a quick shower and then drives back to the loft. Cora's ordering the food when he gets there and Derek seems to be in the shower. This time when Derek descends the stairs he keeps his eyes on the TV, reruns of I Love Lucy, to keep himself in check. 

Stiles' mood has improved slightly after working out some of his aggression on the house but he's still not feeling himself. If Stiles were with Scott he would have noticed immediately and bugged him until he told him what was wrong, but Derek and Cora only nurse the conversation themselves or sit and eat in companionable silence. It makes him feel like a little bit less of an open book. 

Soon after he finishes eating Stiles' exhaustion takes over, and how did he not notice how comfortable their couch was until just now? The insides of his eyelids become a lot more compelling than Bewitched and he falls asleep between Derek and Cora. 

He's in the middle of a repeat of the dream he had at Scott's house about the Nogitsune burning down the rebuilt Hale house with his entire pack inside of it. He can hear Derek yelling his name, like he's begging for him to stop, but he can't. Or maybe he's just saying his name sternly...

Stiles bolts awake and panics at the unfamiliar surroundings. His eyes finally focus on Derek who must have been saying his name to wake him up, and shaking his shoulder, where his hand still rests. Stiles sighs a shallow breath out and puts his head in his hands, feeling Derek remove his hand from his shoulder to sit next to him on the couch. They stay like that quietly for a moment, Stiles still attempting to catch his breath. 

When Stiles begins to feel slightly less like jello he brings his hands up to rake through his hair and tries to wipe the sweat from his face off on the collar of his shirt. He starts to think that Derek will let him just get up and leave before he speaks. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

Stiles can't help the bitter chuckle that escapes him at the question, but the humor leaves him quickly and he just feels empty. "No." 

"Stiles," Derek starts, but doesn't get any farther than that. 

"No, Derek, I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it. I just want it to be over." Stiles hadn't meant to say it but it's the complete truth. It's like he's just trying to hold on until he can take a break, from what he isn't sure. 

"It's never going to be over." When Stiles looks up, Derek is looking at Stiles with an intense expression, half of concern and half of a private kind of grief. This is Derek trying to connect and sympathize with Stiles, and a small part of him marvels at that. That Derek can still have that in him after everything. 

But the bigger part of him is upset and frustrated and strung out, and doesn't want to accept that he's being helped, so it decides to lash out. Stiles scoots back and looks Derek straight in the eye. "Why do you care? You asked me before why I was here, why are you letting me be here? What happened to shoving Stiles in to walls and threatening Stiles' person?" On the outside Stiles is just trying to be hostile, but on the inside he's nervous as to what Derek's answer will be. The past few weeks he'd been so caught up in the fact that Derek was letting him in, and not really thinking about why. 

"Maybe I don't want to be that person anymore." Derek sounds drained when he answers, like even the memories exhaust him. 

It makes it very difficult for Stiles to hold on to his own heat and energy, but he manages it for just one last sentence. "Oh, so I'm just the closest person to be nice to." 

"No." Derek doesn't explain further than that, and when Stiles makes eye contact his expression is much gentler. After a moment Derek breaks the contact by getting up and moving to his dresser to get his keys and jacket. "I'm taking you home in the Camaro." Stiles can't find it in himself to argue anymore, or worry about leaving the Jeep there, so he follows Derek out of the loft and allows himself to be driven home.


	8. Chapter 8

Stiles wakes up to bright light streaming through his window and feels literally like a rock. He's laying on his stomach, splayed all across his bed, and doubts he has the capability to move his limbs. It seems that a night without dreams equals being paralyzed by fatigue in the morning, which hardly seems fair. There's also this tiny pinging sound in the back of his head that won't seem to-

Nope, that is the sound of literal pebbles being tossed at his window, what the hell. Curiosity wins over fatigue in the end and he stumbles to his window to open it and find out who has suddenly become John Cusack on his lawn. It turns out though, that the culprit is much more fittingly perched on the tree across from his window. "Good morning Derek, nice day we're having."

"Are you going to let me in?" Derek is half smiling and using his sarcastic eyebrows (Stiles will never understand how it is possible to have eyebrows that expressive but believe him, it is). Stiles steps back from the sill to allow Derek to vault into the room like he's a goddamn circus performer. 

"It's too early for this." Stiles rubs his hands over his face to clear the last of the sleep fog, and Derek clears his throat.

"Stiles, it's one in the afternoon." Stiles looks to his bedside clock and yes it is indeed 1:05, how did he not notice that upon waking up? For a second his mind reels, uncomfortable with unaccounted time ever since the Nogitsune, before Derek cuts in. "You slept in. I drove here this morning in your Jeep to get it back to you but didn't want to wake you up. I've been here, you were just asleep." 

"Okay. Right, of course." He glances back at Derek, dressed in a green henley and black pants, and remembers the night before. "Thanks for bringing the Jeep back. I'm sorry about-" he begins to apologize about freaking out the night before, but Derek doesn't let him finish.

"Don't be." Derek looks him over for a second as if deciding something. "Get dressed and ready, we'll get some food." Derek brushes past Stiles and exits his room, footsteps carrying down the stairs and to the living room. The promise of food has him fully awake now, so he rushes to the bathroom to take his shower. 

-

 

Stiles feels bad about leaving the Jeep alone at the loft so he bullies Derek into letting him drive, which is surprisingly not too hard. Derek directs Stiles to a diner in town that serves breakfast all day, for which Stiles is immensely grateful. He eats his way through about 7 pancakes before he calls it quits and the waiter is giving him looks like he's afraid Stiles will burst and take them all with him. Derek opted for just a cinnamon roll and coffee which looks almost dainty in comparison. 

When Stiles is finished with the food Derek starts to get that frustrated-slash-constipated look on his face that makes Stiles think he's trying to say something but doesn't know how. Patience is not Stiles' most practiced skill but he attempts to look as open as he can and waits for Derek to work through it. Eventually, Derek looks up from the jelly packet he's been nervously fondling and gives a small smile, though his eyebrows are betraying his uncertainty. "Last night, you asked me-" 

"Look, Derek, I'm sorry I didn't mean-" Stiles feels his ears turn slightly pink.

"No, just, listen." Stiles frowns but nods for Derek to continue. "When you asked me why I was letting you come around, what changed, I told you I didn't want to be that person anymore. And I meant that." Derek shuffles around in his seat, clearly not finished, but still hesitant. Stiles is tempted to interrupt again, to say that he knows that Derek is trying, but he keeps his mouth shut. "Some time this week I'm going to ask Scott to come to the loft, and Cora and I are going to officially... request acceptance in to the pack." Derek finally looks up and makes eye contact with Stiles for a second before quickly continuing. "It's not just his decision, and he'll probably have everyone meet to talk about it, but. I wanted you to know." 

Stiles has no idea what to say for a moment. On one hand, the idea of Derek and Cora 'officially requesting acceptance' sounds a tiny bit ridiculous to him, he already considers them pack, but on the other hand it's pretty monumental for Derek to want that. Derek looks like he's waiting for Stiles to say something. 

"I kind of didn't realize you weren't already pack." Derek's expression is the most vulnerable Stiles has ever seen in broad daylight.

"The dynamic is still very... vague. It's hard to explain. Pack is like a physical tie, almost unquestionable. There needs to be unwavering trust. With everything that happened with Isaac... it's everyone's decision." Derek seems to be picking his words very carefully, eyes glued to the table, and his hands have shifted from above the table to under, and back again. 

Stiles' arm raises of it's own accord, and he hesitates for a second before making a decision and putting his hand down on Derek's. He feels Derek stiffen and look back to Stiles' face. 

"Isaac is just acting like a kid who's mad because he can't have ice cream before dinner." Derek looks at him quizzically. "You did something to protect him and he's too stupid to get that. Trust me, he'll get over it. Scott? He'll be more than happy to have you. Lydia and Kira are too smart to feel any differently, and Lydia already likes Cora. And like I said, it's already unquestioned for me. Don't worry about it." 

Derek's expression softens a little and he loosens up under Stiles' hands. "Thanks." 

Stiles realizes that they've both shifted to be leaning toward each other over the table. Their waitress comes over to take their empty plates and they shift back, but Stiles doesn't release Derek's hands, and he can feel the heat spreading over his face because of it. For some reason it seems monumental to him that Derek has told him before anyone else that they want to be in the pack and he's afraid to break up the moment. The waitress asks if they'd like to order anything else before the bill, smirking at Stiles like it's some kind of innuendo, and Derek declines. After she leaves Stiles tries to think of something to say, but before he can come with something that isn't weird or way too honest he feels his phone vibrate with a text in his pocket. 

He hesitates for a moment, because getting the phone means letting go of Derek, which he probably should have done like two minutes ago but for some reason doesn't want to. He looks to Derek who raises one eyebrow at him, looking like he's trying to hide his own smirk even though the tips of his ears are pink, and Stiles releases the man to attend to the message. 

"Scott and Isaac are boarding their plane, they land some time tonight." Stiles also had multiple images waiting to download from them and from Lydia and Kira but he doesn't bother opening them. 

"Are you going to go see them when they get back?" Derek swigs the last of his coffee and hands the waitress his card before she can even put the bill down. Stiles decides to let it go because of the finesse. 

"Nah." Stiles doesn't elaborate because the reason he's still irritated with Scott and Isaac has to do with the comment Isaac made about Derek, and that's not something he completely wants to own up to at the moment. Derek raises another eyebrow at that but doesn't pry. 

Derek's phone goes off while they're on their way out to the Jeep, with a phone call from Cora. Stiles doesn't have super hearing so he can't hear Cora but from Derek's face and exasperated tone it sounds like she's whining about something. They get in the car but Stiles waits for Derek before turning the engine off, not sure if they're going to the loft or Stiles' house. Derek rolls his eyes at something his sister says and turns. "Stiles, would you like to come back to the loft with me to appease Cora, who is a brat, because she is bored." Derek doesn't attempt to move the phone, making sure Cora can hear every word, and his tone is dripping with the special brand of irritation an older brother feels after succumbing to the demands of a younger sister. Stiles smirks at the tone and starts the car. 

"Her majesty is bored?!" He probably doesn't need to speak any louder to ensure Cora can hear him through the phone but the volume adds drama. "It's a national emergency!" He revs the engine and pulls out of the lot, and Derek rolls his eyes before assuring Cora they'll be there in ten. 

After Derek hangs up the phone Stiles remembers that it's Friday. "No house building today?" Stiles tries to concentrate on the road but notices a small blush start to bloom on Derek's neck. 

"No, we gave the crew the day off." The blush deepens the tiniest bit, and Stiles would ask about it further, but he's afraid he'll end up smashing the car into a tree if he concentrates any more on Derek's face. By the time they pull up to the loft and park the blush is gone but it's replaced by a frown. 

"You don't actually have to come up if you don't want to, I didn't-" 

"Derek, I have to stop you there, any further words and you'll be committing treason," Stiles deadpans. Derek half rolls his eyes and playfully shoves Stiles towards the main doors.

 

\--

 

When they reach Cora she's on the living room floor playing a massive game of solitaire with multiple decks and more confusing rules. Stiles thinks she must have been really really bored to resort to this. Derek and Stiles sit on the couch while she cleans up the cards. Stiles reaches for the remote and Cora stops him. "There's nothing on, believe me, I checked." 

"Well, we could watch a movie?" This seems to make Derek stiffen next to him on the couch, and Stiles didn't even realize they were sitting that close together until now. Cora is smirking dangerously at Derek. 

"What a great idea Stiles!" She books it up the staircase and all Stiles has time to do is glance at Derek, who has brought his hands up to his face, before she comes barreling back in to the room. 

"Cora, please, not-" Derek's tone is half pleading and half warning, and Stiles doesn't know whether to be amused or scared. Cora seems to be holding something behind her back and inching slowly toward the TV. 

"Derek, it's the only DVD we have, that's not my fault." Her mock innocence is what drives Stiles to finally interrupt. 

"What the hell is happening?" Cora smiles even wider, almost like she'd forgotten Stiles was there. She reveals the object in her hand to be a DVD case for Pride and Prejudice. 

Derek grunts next to him. "Three times this month already Cora, not again. Stiles can find something on the laptop, right?" He looks to Stiles a little frantically. 

The thing is, Stiles actually loves the movie, and he also can't resist the look on Derek's face. "Excuse me, streaming movies is illegal. Are you asking me, the Sheriff's son, to break the law?" 

Cora looks so shocked she could blow over, and Derek's face is screaming betrayal. He puts his hand on the older man's shoulder and pats it a couple times. "I'm sorry Derek, you're beautiful and all, but Mr. Darcy?" This time Cora does topple, bent over herself laughing, and Derek just rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. 

"I hate both of you." This just makes Cora laugh harder, but it's Stiles' turn to roll his eyes. He gets up to put some popcorn in the microwave and it doesn't hit him until he's waiting for it to be done that Derek just said that to both him and Cora. Something about that makes his heart skip a beat. He doesn't have time to deal with it now though, because Cora has finally gotten herself together and he can hear the menu playing on the TV.

With the popcorn in tow he sits back on the couch, between Derek and Cora. "So Derek, what is your issue with Pride and Prejudice?" 

Before Derek can answer Cora butts in. "He won't actually watch it, he runs away every time I put it on!" She sticks her tongue out at her brother and Stiles is glad he put himself between them because he knows what sibling brawls can look like and would not like to experience the werewolf version.

"Well that's just unfair," Stiles chides, "You know you can't judge a book by it's cover, Derek. Don't tell me you're too good for a RomCom." 

This makes Derek snort, but he's refusing to make eye contact and his arms are still crossed. Stiles hands him the bowl of popcorn as a peace offering and Derek glances sidelong at him but accepts the gesture. 

The movie begins and Stiles focuses fully back on the screen. It's the boy's full opinion that one should be as immersed in a movie as possible in order to enjoy it. The downside to this, however, is it makes Stiles completely unable to stop himself from mouthing along with or at times quoting the movie as it plays. The first time he does this it's at the beginning of the first assembly hall, and he leans to Cora and whispers along with Elizabeth "Humorless poppycocks, in my limited experience." 

Cora surprises him by whispering back "One of these days, Lizzy, someone will catch your eye and then you'll have to watch your tongue."

Derek notices their exchange and mumbles "nerds" under his breath, but his posture has changed from tense and irritated to relaxed so Stiles figures the movie is working its magic on him already. 

"Shh," Stiles whispers and smacks Derek's arm, "it's time to meet Darcy." They lapse back in to silence as Darcy, Bingley and Caroline take their walk, which is only interrupted shortly for Cora and Stiles quoting, "The miserable half?" 

The movie progresses with Stiles and Cora occasionally quoting their favorite lines and Stiles nudging Derek during important parts, like when Darcy helps Elizabeth into the carriage and does the hand thing. Derek isn't nearly as invested as they are but isn't completely uninvolved, snorting at some of Elizabeth's more biting remarks like when asked by Darcy what encourages affection and she replies, "Dancing. Even if one's partner is barely tolerable." 

By the time they get to the scene where Darcy confesses his love, Stiles and Cora are leaning out of their seats and Derek seems, at the very least, mildly interested. Stiles grabs for Cora's hand and remembers why he doesn't watch this movie with other people around. She seems to be just as effected by it, though, as they both quote along with Darcy. 

The parts of the movie that seem to catch Derek's attention the most are the subsequent parts where Elizabeth is proven wrong about Darcy. The letter he writes her explaining about Mr. Wickham, when Lydia runs away with Wickham and Darcy pays for the wedding, all have Derek frowning at the screen in contemplation. Stiles is finding it increasingly more difficult to concentrate on the movie instead of Derek's reaction to it.

This changes when Darcy appears at the top of the hill at sunrise, near the end of the movie. Stiles and Cora tense up again and Derek seems to realize something is going to happen as he leans a little bit towards the TV. 

"... you have bewitched me, body and soul," Stiles quotes, "and I love, I love, I love you." Stiles and Cora both fall back against the couch but Derek remains in his position. Stiles has to keep his eyes from watering when Mr. Bennet starts to cry, and then the movie is over. 

They're all speechless for a minute and Stiles finally shifts to Derek to gauge his reaction. "Did you like it, sourwolf?" 

"I... guess." Derek sounds unsure, and Stiles nudges him to make him continue. "It was kind of annoying. The whole thing was a big misunderstanding." 

"That's the point!" Cora says from Stiles' other side. "That's what makes it so good."

"Right," Stiles agrees, "they're instantly attracted to each other but they're both too pig headed to admit it."

"But it's all trivial bullshit that gets in the way." Derek holds to his opinion. "It's frustrating."

Derek looks to Stiles and they make eye contact while Stiles replies, "Some of us like to be frustrated." 

The air seems oddly charged and Stiles can't really decipher Derek's expression. They stay looking at each other for a few more seconds, before Cora clears her throat and announces she's hungry and going to get food. Derek tosses his wallet to the door where she's already standing to leave. "I don't need much, I had a big lunch," Stiles yells before she's down the hall. 

Again, being alone with Derek makes him realize how close they are on the couch, but he tries not to make it weird by moving away. It's normal for pack members to be touchy, he knows that for sure, so just because it's Derek he shouldn't be weird about it. The two of them have become close the past month and that's a good thing for both of them, Stiles thinks, and he doesn't want to ruin that just because he can't keep his bisexual-teenage-boy hormones in check. It's not really fair though, because it's Derek, who's basically the product of a Greek god and a kitten, built and dangerous on the outside and sarcastic yet fluffy on the inside. He's just feeling raw after watching the movie, and beautiful Mr. Darcy, that's all. 

Derek turns the cable on and puts it on Family Feud. They watch in companionable silence for most of the program, but get into an argument over one of the fast money questions which lasts until Cora returns with the take out. 

"Derek, that doesn't make sense, the first thing I think of when I think of a chicken is definitely not-" 

"I don't want to know what you were going to say, but stop bickering and eat, please." Cora interrupts him by shoving a container of egg rolls at him. 

Derek smirks at him, but Stiles makes the 'I'm watching you' gesture at him. Cora rolls her eyes and ruffles his hair. Stiles sits back and wonders what life will be like with Derek and Cora officially in the pack, knowing how they act around each other and him now. For once it seems to him that it could all work out.


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles decides to set aside his Saturday, for the first time in his life, to completing homework. He has an essay to write on Gatsby for his English class which will a breeze considering he read the book for the first time 3 years ago and loved it. He also has a bunch of BS chemistry and some math to do. Giving homework during spring break is pretty douchey but these days school work is like taking a nap compared to the supernatural shit he has to deal with. 

It helps significantly that Lydia calls him mid-afternoon and tells him she's been home for less than 24 hours and already bored, offering to come over and bring some of her notes. He agrees without hesitation. 

Somewhere in between Lydia's display with Jackson right before he moved away and their stay at the Motel-From-Hell, Stiles had decided to pull his head out of his ass and get over her. It's nice now to finally be able to love her in a way that they can both handle and be comfortable with. And he truly does love her, there's no doubt, but they're also really close friends and pack mates. 

She arrives with a flourish around three, by which time Stiles has already finished the essay, and they work on math and chemistry. She lingers a little bit on the dark circles under his eyes when she thinks he doesn't see, but instead of irritating him like it would with most other people he just feels sad for making her worry. The rest of the day he makes an effort to not only pretend he's feeling better but to actually feel better. 

"So your break wasn't too horrible without us around?" At this point the work is all finished and they've retreated to Stiles' bed with the laptop. They're curled slightly together, which would have given him a heart attack two years ago, but now just maintains a flutter of warmth in his belly, the feeling of a pack member being close. Lydia's tone tries for cocky but falls slightly short, betraying herself.

"Honestly it was... good." Stiles tries to be as genuine and honest as possible, and figures the last person to say anything negative about Derek is Lydia. "I spent most of it with Derek and Cora."

"That's good, they could use the practice in social interaction." Her smile is genuine enough that Stiles can't help but smile back, but it falters a little as she continues. "I know that it's hard for you to talk to us about what you went through because you think we won't understand. But maybe it would be easier with them, or Derek at least." By the end her voice is barely more than a whisper and is a little wet, but she's still smiling. 

Stiles almost doesn't know what to say, he's so touched by the display. Lydia has never been good at displaying emotion, Stiles knows it's one of her insecurities, hat the years of pretending to be someone she's not have turned her cold, but she's brought herself almost to the point of tears now. 

Stiles blinks his own tears back and leans over slightly to press his mouth to her forehead. "Thank you," he says, not really knowing what else there is to say. When he pulls back she puts her head on his shoulder and they spend a few hours curled up and watching Netflix. 

Lydia leaves after that, with a tight hug and a promise of "see you Monday." 

 

Stiles whips up some frozen ravioli for himself for a late dinner as the Sheriff is working a double shift, going from that afternoon until early morning. He spends the rest of his night playing Yoshi's Island and getting pissed off at the damn shy guys. How is this even fun, why am I still playing, how are you even supposed to-

The sound of a thump and a moan from upstairs cuts off his train of thought, and he pauses the game to get up and walk cautiously up the stairs. The sound came from his bedroom, probably a wolf coming in through the window he must have accidentally left open. When Stiles gets to the doorway of his room, he freezes for a moment. 

It's Derek, which he should have figured, but it's not just a friendly visit. He's hunched over, one hand on Stiles' desk chair for support, and he's covered in blood. Stiles comes to his senses and rushes forward with an, "oh, shit, Derek, what the hell," and decides to steer Derek toward the bathroom to clean him up. 

"It was an Omega," Derek breathes through clenched teeth, "caught its scent driving around, took care of it." They reach the bathroom and Derek sits on the edge of the tub and looks up at Stiles. For some reason, even though Derek is covered in blood and obviously injured, Stiles' first impulse is to brush Derek's hair out of his face. He ignores that. 

"You're hurt." It's not a question, Stiles can see the pain he's in, but he can't tell where the injury is. Derek grimaces, stands up, and turns around. Stiles gasps as he takes in the shredded shirt and shards of glass that are embedded in Derek's upper back. He wonders how he managed not to notice that before. "Shit. How?" 

"Pushed me through a warehouse window, landed on the glass." Derek is panting with exertion, and Stiles realizes why when he notices what happens when Derek moves even the tiniest bit. The cuts won't heal until the glass is removed, but every time Derek breathes or moves his arms they cut deeper in to his skin, which then tries to heal itself and tightens against or even over the shard, and the process is repeated. 

"We need to get the pieces out." Stiles almost whispers this, and Derek nods, but it's such a daunting task. "Please don't hate me for how much this is going to hurt." Derek huffs a little, which could be a laugh or just more pain, and nods again, giving Stiles permission. 

"What about Cora?" Stiles asks while he grabs the bathroom scissors and starts cutting what's left of Derek's shirt off so he doesn't have to lift his arms. 

"I left her at the loft, she doesn't know." Stiles fishes his phone out before he gets too bloody and sends her a text so she knows where Derek is and that he's (mostly) okay. 

Stiles removes his own shirt and sits at one edge of the tub, with Derek on the bottom of it, back facing Stiles and his knees up at his chest. Stiles is so completely grateful that his father is working tonight he could cry. 

Armed with tweezers and good intentions Stiles sets to his task of removing the glass. 

He tries to alternate between bigger and smaller shards, getting a large and painful one out, and then giving Derek some time to heal by getting some little pieces, before moving on to the next big one. When he doesn't need both hands he grasps Derek's shoulder, sometimes for leverage, but also trying to offer something, anything. Stiles thinks this would have been so much easier a year ago or two years ago, when he didn't know Derek and almost hated him, instead of now. Every little grunt or soft whine from Derek makes him wish more and more he could take Derek's pain the way a wolf could. Instead he talks through it, telling Derek that he's doing good, and warning him when he's going for a bigger piece. 

He saves the biggest piece for last. When he tries to get it out he realizes that some of the skin has healed over parts of glass, so he's going to have to make an incision to get that part out. "We're so close, just this last one, but I have to cut some skin first, okay?" Stiles touches Derek's shoulder as he talks, and Derek nods, bracing himself. Stiles tries to be as quick as possible, making the cut with the little first aid scissors, and immediately gripping the glass tightly and wrenching it out. A rush of blood comes from the newly open wound but the bleeding doesn't last too long as Derek's healing is working almost as quickly as it did when he was an Alpha. Derek sags forward and his forehead rests on his knees, and this time Stiles grips his upper arm.

"It's over, it's all out." He hears Derek sigh and a hand comes up to rest on Stiles' own. They sit like that for a couple of minutes, and Derek's back is a little over half healed by the time he says anything. 

"I should shower." Derek's voice is soft, like he's dozing off, and it makes Stiles smile just a little. Derek makes no move to get up, though.

"Are you okay to stand?" Derek nods and Stiles gets up and out of the tub, offering Derek a hand to get him upright. After Derek is standing and has a towel on the hook, Stiles hovers a little, not really wanting to leave Derek alone but also not knowing what else he can do. Derek just smirks at him.

"I think I can wash myself, Stiles." He feels his cheeks heat and nods, leaving the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. 

Outside the bathroom door Stiles strips down to his briefs and puts the bloody clothes in a laundry basket. He washes his hands in the kitchen sink and writes a note out for his dad that says "Derek got hurt but everything's fine, will bleach tub tomorrow" which he leaves on the kitchen counter. The forgotten Yoshi's Island remains on the TV until he sighs at it and turns it off, not even bothering to save. Stiles walks back upstairs to his room for a clean t-shirt and sweats, and grabs his baggiest pair for Derek. He considers bringing him the black shirt he had borrowed from Derek, but instead shoves it in the back of a drawer. Stiles doesn't know what makes him not want to return the shirt but he also doesn't really want to analyze it while Derek is showering in his bathroom. 

When he hears the water turn off he walks to the door and knocks softly. "Derek, there are some sweats out here for you." Stiles goes back to his room to wait. When Derek walks in to the room a minute later he looks tired and worn out, with lidded eyes and a slight hunch, but he also looks utterly beautiful, hair slightly damp and perfect chest bared. Stiles has no idea what to do with that. It chokes him up for a second before he realizes that Derek is holding his phone out towards Stiles. 

There's a text from Cora asking if they need her, and Stiles looks back up to Derek, knowing there's no way he is letting the man try to drive home or walk to wherever the hell he left the Camaro. "You should stay. You look like you're ready to pass out any second." He expects to have to argue his point but Derek just nods a little and yawns. "I'll take the floor." 

Stiles is reaching out to grab his pillow to lay down on the floor but Derek grabs his arm and stills him. "Don't." Stiles doesn't know exactly what it is, maybe the adrenaline wearing off, maybe the expression on Derek's face, maybe a combination of the two, but he doesn't put up a fight either. 

Derek turns out the light and closes the door while Stiles scoots to the wall-side of the bed and lays on his side. Derek lays down on his stomach, face turned toward Stiles, and lets out a sigh. "Thank you Stiles." His voice is almost a whisper, Stiles didn't realize Derek was capable of speaking so quietly and delicately. 

"Any time." Derek snorts and Stiles smiles reflexively, relishing in the feeling of humoring Derek after everything. "And thank you." 

"For what, bleeding on you for an hour?" Derek is teasing, but there's an edge to his voice that Stiles can't identify.

"For coming to me for help. For trusting me." It means a lot to him that he was the one Derek came to, even if he doesn't completely understand it. Their conversation is starting to shimmer around the edges with sleep threatening to take him under, and it makes him honest. 

"Any time," is Derek's reply, and it's Stiles' turn to snort, and his hand goes back up to Derek's shoulder. He doesn't remember closing his eyes but he opens them for a moment to see Derek looking at him with a small smile. Derek maintains eye contact for a few beats and then closes his eyes and tucks his head further into the pillow. 

The sight makes Stiles' heart clench, but a few moments later his eyes drift closed and he's out in a matter of minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'm still writing!!! I've been really busy lately but I'm not giving up, WIPs are a promise I intend on keeping!


	10. Chapter 10

Though Stiles' sleep was deep and dreamless, he woke up the next morning to a start. He sat up immediately from bed, and saw Derek laying next to him, which brought back the memories of the previous night. Stiles meets Derek's eye for a second before hearing his dad yell "STILES!" and footsteps ascending the stairs. He startles again, this time trying to get off the bed, and ends up fumbling over Derek and falling on his ass in the process. 

The sheriff opens his sons door with his mouth open and ready to speak but whatever he was going to say is lost when he takes in the scene. Stiles attempts to turn and face his dad but ends up on his stomach on the ground. Derek sits up lazily on the bed. "Morning, Dad," Stiles tries, but his father just sighs. 

"I don't have time for this." The sheriff pinches the bridge of his nose for a second before speaking to Stiles again. "Scott is downstairs waiting for you. I'm going to go to the grocery store and run some other errands." His attention turns toward Derek, who had been smirking at Stiles but now looks slightly embarrassed (Stiles has never seen Derek look embarrassed before now, and a tiny part of him feels proud for having a hand in that). Stiles remembers now that Derek is shirtless in his bed and all Stiles said in his note was that Derek 'got hurt'. He suddenly starts to feel like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't, and he can feel the heat spread on his face. "Derek," The sheriff nods, and Derek replies with a "Sheriff," and the man gives one last pointed look at Stiles, reminding him about the tub. 

Once the door is shut and the sheriff is safely downstairs, Stiles lets his head fall against the hardwood. Derek just snorts, the bastard, and gets up off the bed. He walks to Stiles and holds a hand out, and Stiles has half a mind to ignore it, but eventually takes the help, with a muttered "someone's in a good mood today." Upon standing he gets a tiny head rush and sways a little, but Derek's hands on his shoulders keep him steady. It occurs to him now how easily him and Derek touch at this point, and how weird that should feel to him. In fact, there are a lot of things about his relationship with Derek that should be weird but somehow aren't. He feels a jerk of something in his chest but chooses to ignore it (like usual). 

Derek is looking at the ground, probably listening to-

Shit. Scott. Stiles had totally forgotten that Scott was downstairs. He suddenly feels a little bit nervous about some kind of confrontation, especially now that Derek is in his house and has obviously spent the night here, in his bed. Derek notices the uptick in Stiles' heart rate and quirks his eyebrow at the boy. 

Derek's face grows serious after a second and he looks Stiles in the eye. "Do you want me to go out the window?" 

Something about how serious Derek's face and tone are is hysterical to Stiles, and after a few seconds of his ridiculous cackling Derek breaks a small smile. 

"No, dude," Stiles says, slightly out of breath, "but maybe you should get a shirt."

 

 

Stiles goes downstairs alone to greet Scott, who is in the kitchen, and receives a confused look from his best friend. "Hey," Stiles starts, feeling pretty awkward. "How was the trip?" 

Scott's face relaxes a little and he gives a small smile. "It was nice. Totally beautiful." The peaceful and far off look Scott had obtained melted away and was replaced again by the pinched confusion. "I missed you, and hearing from you." Stiles feels his throat ache a little at the tone of Scott's voice, and a little guilty for not texting Scott back. 

"I'm sorry." Stiles doesn't really know what else to say. 

Scott jumps on it the second after he says it. "Look, I'm the one who should be sorry. It's been difficult with Isaac, and I know I've been neglecting you. I don't mean to do it." Scott looks a little desperate and Stiles realizes how much of a toll being the Alpha is taking on Scott, even after everything has calmed down. 

"It's okay," Stiles says, and means it. "It's been hard for you, and that's not your fault. I shouldn't be taking it out on you." The two just stare at each other for a second, there's some kind of tension in the room, then Scott moves towards Stiles and grabs him up in a hug. The tension is gone immediately and so are any nerves Stiles had. He suddenly recalls the few minutes before he went in for his MRI, when Scott promised to save him. Stiles feels absurd for any doubt he's had; Scott is his best friend. That's what he'll always be. 

"Stiles," Scott starts, speaking mostly in to his shoulder before pulling out of the hug. "Why is Derek here?" 

Derek chooses this moment to walk down the stairs. Stiles turns toward him and sees that he has put a shirt on but it's not the borrowed black v-neck; it's one of Stiles' old sleep shirts he's forgotten he even had, a worn grey with "YALE" printed on the front. Derek brushes past Stiles so close they almost touch and goes to the sink, filling up a glass of water. Scott looks at him speculatively while he downs half of it. "I was on a drive last night, caught up to an omega." Derek looks so completely casual leaning his back against the sink, in Stiles' clothes and his hair slightly damp, the contrast between the setting and what he's saying makes Stiles want to laugh. 

Scott's eyebrows shoot up for a moment, and he looks like he's about to say something but Derek cuts him off. "I took care of it, he won't be bothering us any time soon." A year ago those words would have made Stiles shiver a little with fear, thinking of Derek 'taking care of' anything or anyone, but now it just makes him feel relieved. Safe. "There are some things we need to talk about, though." Derek sets the now empty glass down in the sink. "Do you think you and Stiles could meet us at the loft after school tomorrow?" 

Stiles realizes exactly what Derek's planning to talk about tomorrow, and can't help the little smile the thought causes. Scott turns toward him then, waiting for Stiles' input, and Stiles nods at him. "I can pick you up before school and we can take the Jeep after. It'll be like old times." Stiles punches Scott's shoulder and Scott is back to grinning at him. 

"Then it's settled." Scott looks back to Derek with a smile still on his face. Derek still looks completely relaxed, and Stiles feels hopeful for the first time in months that everything is going to work out. Derek and Cora will be officially pack, Scott and Derek will work out their differences, they'll finish the house, and they'll all actually be happy for once. It's been so long since he felt this way he could almost cry. 

Derek clears his throat. "I should probably get back to Cora." He looks at Stiles when he says it, and they maintain eye contact for a few seconds, Stiles almost forgets Scott is still in the room. 

"Oh, your pants are in the washer still!" Stiles doesn't think about it before he says it, and when he sees the look Scott gives him he feels the heat spread over his face. Derek, the asshole, just smirks at him. "They were bloody." Stiles says to Scott, feeling like he's just digging himself further into a hole. 

"We can trade back tomorrow." The smirk on Derek's face just gets bigger and Stiles finds a crumpled receipt on the counter to throw at him, which he dodges, chuckling. Derek's phone buzzes from his (Stiles') sweats pocket, and when he sees who the text is from he rolls his eyes slightly. It's Stiles' turn to smirk. 

"Have fun with Cora when you get back." From what he knows about Cora, he's sure she can't be happy with Derek not calling or coming home last night. Derek walks past Stiles to the door, sticking his tongue out on the way, and throwing a 'see you tomorrow' to Scott over his shoulder. 

Once he's out the door, and apparently out of ear shot, Scott turns his most confused look at Stiles. "Well?"

Stiles decides to play dumb. "What?" He walks over to the freezer and takes out a box, turning towards Scott. "Toaster pastry?" 

"Is that a question?" Scott says as he sits down at the kitchen table. "But seriously, what was that?" 

"What was what?" He knows that Scott means how comfortable he is around Derek, which must seem to Scott like it's coming out of nowhere, but he doesn't really want to define or explain their relationship right now. Especially not in a way that might mess up how Scott views Derek, considering the conversation they're supposed to have tomorrow. 

When he turns away from the toaster, Scott is giving him this look, like he's totally transparent. 

Stiles sighs. "There's a quote from Sylvia Plath," He starts, and Scott doesn't look any less confused. "'So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them.'" Scott looks down to the table, concentrating on something. 

When he finally looks back to up, Stiles is worried he's going to push him on the subject, but instead what Scott says is, "How do you always remember stuff like that?" 

Stiles smiles, rolls his eyes, and places the now finished pastries on two plates. "Because I'm not busy thinking about what an appropriate 3-month-anniversary gift is." 

Scott looks surprised for a second, and says "crap, I almost forgot," and everything feels (almost) normal again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A smaller chapter, but hopefully something to tide you over! Thank you to everyone who is encouraging me to continue, it truly means a lot.


	11. Chapter 11

Scott stays for a while to catch up about his trip and get in some much needed gaming time, but apparently has neglected all homework so he leaves in the early afternoon. The sheriff arrives back home while Stiles is in the process of bleaching the tub, as promised. 

He ducks his head in for just long enough to ask Stiles to come downstairs when he's done. There really wasn't that much blood in the first place so it only takes him a few minutes more, but Stiles is slightly skeptical of his fathers motivations. 

When Stiles descends the stairs and sees his father in the kitchen he remembers that it's about time for dinner. "Oh, yeah, I meant to get some food started a while ago-" 

The sheriff waves his son off. "Don't worry about it. I just had something to show you." Stiles narrows his eyes at his father, who looks as close to giddy as he's seen him in years, before noticing a large black case on the kitchen table. Specifically, a guitar case. 

His eyes go back and forth between the case and the man several times before the sheriff is huffing and opening it himself. Inside is a beautifully worn acoustic guitar. Stiles doesn't really know anything about guitars so he couldn't distinguish the make or year of it, just that it looks kind of old, but not in a beat up way. He can practically smell the wood of it from where he's standing. 

"An old buddy of mine was getting rid of it, and I used to play, so I figured it could be something for you, or for us to do." The sheriff is now looking a little more nervous, like he's second guessing the idea. 

"Wow." Stiles is almost speechless. "Dad, that's-" 

"If you don't want to that's fine, I don't know-" The sheriff moves to shut the case, but Stiles jumps at it and stops him. 

"No, it's amazing." The idea of having his dad teach him something like that consumes him for a moment. They haven't been able to spend a lot of time together, and things are still rough from all the lies that have passed between them in the last few years, so Stiles looks forward to being able to make up for it. "Thank you. Really."

"Good," the man smiles, "I'm glad you like it. I thought it might help." 

Stiles swallows past the lump growing in his throat. He sees the frown lines on his father's face, the almost tired look in his eyes, and knows that he put some of that there. If he could forgive himself for everything he's done, everyone he's ever hurt, he'll still never forgive himself for everything he's put this man through. "When you have time, soon, we should test it out." Stiles can feel heat start to prickle at his eyes, but he doesn't want to lose it in front of his father. 

He suddenly feels like he needs to get out of the room, out of the house, away from the gift, like it's too much. He reaches forward and gives his dad a quick hug. "I'm gonna go out for a drive, if that's okay." Stiles has started to walk backwards out of the room, still facing his dad, and doesn't miss the confusion that passes his face.

"Alright, are you sure? It seems like it might start to rain soon-" 

"Yeah, yeah," he waves the sheriff off, "I'll be fine, won't be out for long." Seeing the worry on the mans face just adds to the feeling of claustrophobia. Stiles runs up the stairs to get his keys and wallet, tugs on his sneakers, and jumps out the door with one last wave to his father. 

The sheriff wasn't wrong. Thick clouds look like they're flowing in from the north, and the air is cool enough to seep through his thin shirt, but he doesn't care. 

Once he's in the Jeep and driving he doesn't know where to go. 

He alternates between circling the neighborhoods lazily and gunning it in some instinctual direction. The need to be away from the feeling he had in the kitchen, the realization that his dad was still trying to mop up the Mess-that-is-Stiles, is surprisingly as vague as it is strong. At some point it does start to rain and within minutes it's absolutely poring. 

The rain is so think through the windshield that the Jeep's sad wipers can no longer keep up, so Stiles pulls over. He's not entirely sure where he is but it's definitely not the city anymore. Woods border either side of the road and Stiles has this crazy urge to get out of the car and let the rain wash over him. 

So he does. 

Just inside the forests' edge is a small clearing, the break in the trees above big enough to let in a sizable amount of rain. A layer of moss coats the ground which keeps the mud from claiming his old Chucks. Stiles stands under the downpour for some immeasurable amount of time. It could be seconds, minutes, or even hours. His face is tilted up towards the spray, and every little while he reaches his hands up to card through his hair and across his face, up until he loses the feeling in his fingers. 

Eventually some part of him decides he's had enough of the rain. He returns back to the Jeep, getting inside and not caring for once about getting the seat wet. When he attempts to start the car it rumbles for a second and sputters to a stop. Stiles tries the ignition two more times, both yielding the same result. 

A hysterical laugh bubbles its way out of him, because of course this is his life. Suddenly very tired, Stiles rests his head against the steering wheel. After the moment it takes for him to collect himself he reaches for where he had thoughtfully left his phone on the dash. 

Calling his dad is out of the question. After such a good day with Scott he doesn't really want to drag him back in to this shit. Which only really leaves one other option. 

The phone rings twice before Derek picks it up, and all he can say is "Stiles?" before it sends Stiles into another fit of hysterical laughter. This just prompts Derek to repeat his name, a little more sternly. 

"My car won't start." He's slightly out of breath, and he realizes then that his teeth are chattering. 

"Where are you?" Stiles hears some rustling on the other end, as if Derek's already getting ready to rescue him, like from just that once sentence Derek can tell what he's feeling. 

"I... don't know." The rain is again obscuring his view of any kind of identifiable features, so he gets out of the car to figure it out. This time the cold hits him in a way it hadn't before, like when you get home from trudging through snow and run your hands under hot water. "There's lots of woods around, I think I'm by the preserve." He has to speak up over the volume of the rain. 

"Okay, just get back in your car," Derek sounds rushed, hurrying. "I'll find you." 

Stiles obeys, but neither of them end the call. "Bring something w-warm." Even back in his car and out of the rain, his wet clothes steal all the warmth his body attempts to generate. It figures he would drive out in the middle of nowhere in the rain and freeze to death on his last day of spring break. That's Beacon Hills for you. 

"I will. Stay on the line with me." The tone of Derek's voice reminds him of the time he brought Stiles out of the panic attack not too long ago. Steady, firm, but not demanding. 'I took care of it'. Safe. 

Stiles sighs but it comes out in bursts. "I'm an idiot." He manages to say it without stammering from the cold, only because he's half laughing while he speaks. 

"Sometimes." Stiles snorts. He rests his head back against the steering wheel and stays quiet for a minute. "I'm almost there." 

About 30 seconds later headlights register through the downpour. Stiles ends the call and gathers his few essentials from the car. He opens the door to just jump in to the Camaro but Derek is already there, getting wetter by the second and ushering Stiles in through his already open door. Derek shuts it behind him and goes around to the drivers side. Stiles shuffles around in the seat to arrange the towels, left there for him, around himself. The seat warmer was already on and the heat blowing, so the difference between the car and outside seems like night and day. 

Derek doesn't really say anything as he drives back in to the city. Stiles doesn't have to tell him not to take him home; soon enough they're pulling in to the loft's garage. Before Derek can get out of the car Stiles looks over and makes eye contact with him. "Thank you." After a pause he adds, "I'm sorry." 

"Why would you be sorry?" The look on Derek's face is one Stiles has never seen before, carrying notes of wariness but also defiance. 

"Because I'm a mess." It comes out in a rush. Over the car ride he's warmed up significantly, but still feeling the blunt awareness that comes with being too cold. "Because I keep having to get people to clean me up." 

Derek just looks at him for a long moment, contemplating something. Under the scrutiny Stiles starts to fidget. Unlike any other time Derek has stared at him he's not afraid or anxious, but there's a weight to his eyes that's inescapable. The heavy gaze lowers to his twitching hands, one of Derek's moving to cover and quiet them, and then comes back up to his eyes, more serious somehow. 

"You know, I spent some time as a janitor in New York." It's so completely not what Stiles was expecting it takes him a second to register that it's a joke. He bats Derek's hand away from his with an outraged look on his face, smile threatening to break through. 

"I should've made you bleach the tub." Derek smiles at him and Stiles can't help the reciprocal expression. 

They stay that way for a moment longer, until Derek breaks the silence with a "come on," leading Stiles out of the car and up to the loft. 

 

 

When Derek opens the unnecessarily large door the smell of pizza hits Stiles and he lets himself be lead to the couch. Cora is snuggled into a corner but quickly sidles up to Stiles when he sits down. The warmth and the company are both welcome, as is the pizza Derek puts down in front of him. Cora's got a fleece blanket with little pumpkins on it wrapped around the three of them somehow and Steve Harvey is fixing someone's tie on the TV. 

Apparently Derek has the presence of mind to text Stiles' father, having at some point stolen his phone, the coy bastard. Stiles gets the response of "home by 10" and sets the phone on the table instead of his ruined pants pocket. Derek and Cora somehow don't mind that he's getting everything wet and leeching all of their body heat. Cora's leaning half way on his chest and Derek's arm is on the back of the couch behind him. Stiles is a human; he's never going to understand certain things about being a werewolf and about Derek and Cora and even Scott. But the feeling of closeness, of pack, is so strong in that moment he doesn't care. 

 

 

The next thing Stiles knows he's being woken up by Cora. She immediately puts her hand over his mouth to keep him from making any noise and he miraculously doesn't flail at all. The hand is removed and she puts a finger in front of her mouth, the universal 'shhh', and points to Stiles' other side. Derek has fallen asleep next to him, but not just next to him, practically draped over him. Their sides are touching from knee to waist and his head is resting on Stiles' shoulder. 

Stiles feels the same punch in his gut as he did last night, falling asleep next to Derek, but a little different too. Because while Derek looks beautiful, just like always, his mouth is open a tiny bit and his bunny teeth are sticking out. Without the expressiveness, and with the youthfulness of deep sleep, his eyebrows are so big on his face it's almost silly. He looks goofy, he looks adorable. Stiles almost can't believe he was ever afraid of the man. 

He doesn't notice the smile creep up but he feels the heat of it on his face. Remembering Cora is still cuddled up to his side, and feeling embarrassed by his reaction, Stiles decides to diffuse the situation by waking Derek up. The most effective way to do this, apparently, is to flick his nose. Which is super smart, flicking a sleeping werewolf's nose. 

Derek sits up with Stiles' wrist in his grip immediately. Cora almost falls over from laughing. They lock eyes and for a second Stiles is half afraid Derek is going to rip his hand off. Instead, Derek reaches and pokes Stiles' stomach where he can't possibly know is Stiles' most ticklish spot. Stiles lets out a surprised shriek and tries to outwardly look as betrayed as he feels, but any attempt at retaliation is futile. Tears prick at his eyes as Derek is relentless and Cora has actually fallen to the floor in the commotion. She suddenly decides to leap back on to the couch almost on top of Derek and attack his sides. Derek takes his attention off of Stiles in favor of trying to keep Cora away from his armpits and letting out these high pitched noises that Stiles would never associate Derek with in a million years. 

Stiles squirms off of the couch and scoots to the end of the table. He watches the Hale siblings for a few moments more but they're losing their steam now that Stiles is out of the game. His phone blinks 9PM at him from the table. 

"Big, scary, dangerous werewolves," Stiles muses, "full of GSN and tickle fights." The comment earns him a throw pillow to the face, courtesy of Cora. After a few beats of silence he relents. "I should probably get home." Stiles feels no loss at the words though. The thought of tomorrow, and Cora and Derek truly becoming pack, are too light for going home tonight to weigh him down. 

"I'll take you." Derek's smiling, hair mussed, voice husky from unfinished sleep. "Give me a minute." After Derek has disappeared upstairs, presumably to use the bathroom, Cora trains her gaze on him. 

"Us both falling asleep on you like that," she almost whispers, voice on the verge of a giggle, "is something I didn't think we, I, would ever be able to do with a human again." 

Stiles has the sudden urge to thank her, but instead gets back on the couch so they can sit-hug, which is a little awkward, but still nice. Stiles marvels at Cora's ability to say things like that, declarations, as she feels them. When they first met she was so closed off and so unwilling, it's sometimes hard to reconcile the person he knows now with that girl. 

Derek comes down the stairs after a minute and ruffles both of their hair. Cora growls half-heartedly. Stiles stands up and bids her goodnight, and she in response mumbles something and lays down completely on the couch, content to sleep there. 

Rolling his eyes at his little sister Derek leads Stiles out of the loft and down to the car to drive him home, where he can collapse in bed and damn the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was struck by sudden inspiration last night so this one is a little less refined as I wrote it in 2 days while at least partially sleep deprived, but I hope you like it!! Thanks for the encouragement! (: :*


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter coming soon, I just wanted to get something out. Moving and school starting is eating up a little time, but again I promise not to give up!!

When Stiles steps inside the Camaro he immediately wants to lay his head on the window and fall asleep. He resists the temptation, and within a few minutes, Derek breaks the silence threatening to lull him. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Surprisingly, Derek's face doesn't have that pinched, uncomfortable look that usually accompanies that question, which makes Stiles almost want to talk about it. He stays silent for a minute and debates speaking up. 

"My dad bought me a guitar." It comes out more quiet than Stiles meant it to, and he looks to Derek, realizing how silly it sounds out loud. But Derek is just patiently waiting for him to continue. "It wasn't expensive. He said he got it off a friend. He wants to teach me how to play." The words and thoughts start bubbling up and Stiles loses full control. "It sounds stupid, but- when he didn't know about any of this he was always pissed off at me because I was always lying, and he had a right to be. And now that he knows it's like he still feels mad about it but he also- because of the possession, he tip toes around me sometimes, and he's always trying to 'help' and- I'm just tired of being a disappointment. It's suffocating." Stiles feels a little out of breath then, and considers the fact that this is the most he's told anyone about how he's been feeling lately. The relief is followed by a nervousness as Derek takes his time to respond. 

"You're not a disappointment." Derek pauses as he takes the left turn into the residential district. Stiles stares down at his hands as he waits for the man to continue. "And you're not weak either. Sometimes I think you're the strongest of us all." This makes Stiles look up and see the smallest of smiles on Derek's lips. "Your dad probably feels out of his depth. Supernatural trauma isn't the same as any normal human trauma; it doesn't affect you the same way. He doesn't understand what that means, but he's just trying to help the only way he knows how." It's nice to hear Derek say these things, his tone hushed, validating Stiles' feelings and thoughts. 

"I appreciate that he wants to help, I just feel like I'm falling apart a lot lately, like it's burdening everyone." Frowning at himself, Stiles wonders why he's so loose lipped tonight. It could be the fatigue of a long day, or the temperature, but it also could just be that it's Derek he's talking to. He never thought that Derek would rank high on his list of approachable friends, but Stiles has underestimated the werewolf's ability to listen. 

"Stiles, you could have died. You very nearly did." At this point they pull in to Stiles' driveway behind the cruiser. Derek makes eye contact as he continues. The slightly concerned frown on Derek's face is soft somehow, a total contradiction, which isn't surprising considering that it's Derek. "But you survived. Please don't think you're a burden, when we're all just happy that you're alive." 

Stiles looks back at him without knowing what to say for what seems like minutes. Eventually he musters as much sincerity as possible for a "Thank you." He can't hold back his fatigue any longer, considering how physically and emotionally exhausting the day has been.

"Get some sleep." Derek's smiling at him now, with a fondness that twists Stiles' gut a little bit. Stiles remembers that in order to go to bed he has to first get out of the car, and promptly steps out. At the porch, after unlocking the door, he waves a tiny wave to Derek and steps inside the warm quiet house

 

\---

 

Stiles alarm bursts him into awareness right at the climax of a particularly awful nightmare, one he's had since his mother became sick. It takes a minute for his heart rate to slow down and for his mind to acclimate to the reality of the day, going to school and-

Shit. Stiles just remembers that the Jeep is still on a side road somewhere by the preserve. He prays silently that it hasn't been stolen or vandalized by now. After showering and dressing he descends the stairs, finding Scott's contact to call and see if he can take the backseat of the bike for the day. Right before he presses the dial button he happens to glance out the window and freezes. The Jeep sits in the driveway perfectly pristine.

After the moment or two it takes for him to get over the shock, Stiles feels a smile spread across his face. Of all people to pull off Rom-Com-esque gestures for him, Derek is the most surprising choice. A lot of things about Derek are surprising Stiles lately, so he supposes he should stop being surprised when the people he thought he knew to be grumpy and sour turns out to be thoughtful and generous.

The smile sits on his face all throughout breakfast, and even the drive over to Scott’s. While parked outside waiting for his friend Stiles decides to text Derek, just a simple thank you. When Scott gets into the car and notices the somewhat goofy expression he pinches Stiles’ cheeks.

“You’re giddy today.” Stiles shoves Scott’s hands away from his face.

“Am not.” Sticking your tongue out is still a totally mature thing to do. Of course, right before starting the car he checks his phone and sees a reply from Derek, _“Anytime,_ ” and the stupid look worms its’ way back on to his face.

“Sure, okay, just don’t make me late because you’re texting… who are you even texting?”

Stiles is reluctant to say that it’s Derek, partially because Scott seems to think it’s a romantic thing, so he just mumbles something and starts the car. Scott doesn’t pry but does sneak a couple of suspicious looks toward him on their way to the school. 

 

Stiles won’t lie and say that his day at school is any less irritating than any other day, but having something to look forward to makes it that much more bearable. He still has to deal with Kira making slightly sad eyes at him, probably feeling guilty about going on her trip with Lydia and he still has to deal with a surprise quiz in his English class (which he was actually pretty well prepared for), but the anticipation of their conversation with Derek after school makes it breeze by.

A couple minutes into lunch Stiles’ phone buzzes with a text. Realizing it’s from Derek he perks up a little, but the message has him slightly worried. “Tell me I’m making the right decision.” Stiles frowns down at his phone and excuses himself from the table. Scott gives him a weird look but doesn’t ask any questions.

In order to maintain any sort of privacy Stiles heads to the other side of the school and out a side door, ending up by the lacrosse field. He pulls out his phone and dials Derek.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” Derek’s tone is somewhat playful, but doesn’t hit the mark completely.

“You’re making the right decision.” Derek just sighs on the other end, and sounds like he’s going to contradict that, so Stiles doesn’t let him. “You’re not going to back out of this. I promise everything is going to work out.”

“How can you know that, though?” Stiles wants to roll his eyes and only just resists, even though Derek can’t actually see him.

“Because I know Scott, and I know the rest of the pack. And I know you.” Stiles understands Derek a lot more than he ever has, enough that he can say that and mean it. “If I thought anything wasn’t going to work I would tell you, you know that.”

“Yeah, sugar-coating isn’t really your thing.” Stiles smiles at the bitter-yet-fond tone he picks up.

“But neither is physical violence. I’m right in that sweet spot.”

The small chuckle that comes through the line puts a grin on Stiles’ face, but the sigh that follows softens it. “I’ll see you in a couple hours. Thanks to you, you know, because of the Jeep-“

“Don’t mention it.” It’s Stiles’ turn to sigh. “See you.”

When Stiles gets back to the lunch table Scott is in the middle of telling everyone about their meeting with Derek later, and again, nobody questions him about the text or leaving the table.

“Do you know what he wants to talk about?” Isaac asks with his eyes cast down and his eyebrows together, trying to appear nonchalant, and giving himself away at the same time.

Scott looks to Stiles. Without wanting to lie, he tries to dance around the truth. “Yeah, but it’s not really my right to say it.”

Isaac looks like he’s going to say something snarky but Scott cuts him off. “Okay.” The table seems a little bit tense after that, and Stiles reasons that everyone is assuming this will be a negative conversation. He hopes they can reserve total judgement for a little longer. 

 

Stiles waits for Scott in the Jeep, wondering how he had gotten there first, when he sees Scott exiting the school with Kira. Well, that explains it. It also explains the dopey smile Scott is wearing when he hops inside a minute later. Stiles just laughs a little under his breath, which prompts Scott to cuff him lightly on the shoulder. “Hey, don’t touch the driver.”

Rolling his eyes, Scott turns on the radio, and after a little bit of effort coaxes _Jenny Was a Friend of Mine_ from the old speakers. 

 

On the way up to the loft from the parking lot, Stiles finds himself walking in front of Scott, almost leading him there. It seems weird for a second, considering Scott’s the alpha and Stiles is the human, and this is kind of an official conversation they’re headed to. On the other hand, Stiles is obviously a lot more comfortable in the space than Scott is.

When they reach the door Stiles doesn’t knock but instead opens it and waltzes right in. Cora and Derek are sitting on either side of the couch, and Stiles has the urge to plop down in between them before remembering that Scott is there. He turns around to see Scott’s eyebrows slightly raised, probably referring to how casual Stiles is about being in the loft. Stiles gives a little shrug without knowing what there is to say.

Derek and Cora stand up from the couch and Scott comes forward to stand next to Stiles, if not a tiny bit in front of him. Cora is smirking at them but Derek just looks anxious. “Thank you for coming.” Scott nods for him to continue, but it’s a similar scene to the conversation concerning the Hale house; Derek looks like he doesn’t know where to start and eventually looks to Cora.

“When we opened the house up to you, I mentioned that we would need to discuss what this means for us and for your pack.” Cora starts, and her smirk has softened a little, making her look younger, or closer to her actual age.

Derek seems to find himself again. “That was what we were hoping to discuss today.”

Scott actually looks relieved for a second and nods once again. Stiles thinks Scott’s more like Derek than he will ever care to admit.

Derek’s eyes lock with Stiles’ for a moment that strikes Stiles as incredibly cheesy. Derek smiles and looks back to Scott. “Cora and I,” Derek takes a moment to look at Cora and his smile broadens, as does hers, “would like to officially request a place in your pack.”

A shocked little laugh escapes Scott, who looks totally surprised but in a good way. He opens his mouth to say something, but Derek doesn’t let him.

“Before you say anything you should talk to your pack. There’s no pressure and it’s everyone’s decision.”

“And what you say has no bearing on the house,” Cora jumps in, “our offer is the same whether you accept or decline us. That’s not what this is about.”

Scott seems particularly surprised by Cora. The way he is looking at her it’s like he’s meeting her for the first time, which Stiles figures in a way, he is. She has opened up so much since he’s known her and Scott hasn’t really had a chance to see that.

Looking at Stiles, Scott raises his eyebrows. “Pack meeting at yours tonight, then.”

“Sounds good to me.”


	13. Chapter 13

The car ride back is full of Scott making phone calls, assembling everyone together. They end up picking Kira up from the library, but Scott doesn’t want to tell her anything until everyone is together. By the time they pull up to the Stilinski’s Lydia and Isaac are waiting outside. 

Everyone gathers in the living room, Isaac in the armchair, Scott, Kira and Lydia on the couch, and Stiles leaning against the arm of the couch. The air is tense again, like at lunch, before Scott breaks the silence. 

“Derek and Cora want to join the pack. Officially.” Stiles glances around the room, watching the packs’ faces. Kira smiles brightly, Isaac frowns, and Lydia’s eyes narrow just slightly. “I haven’t made any decision. It’s up to all of us, but I’m not without an opinion.” 

“And what’s your opinion?” Isaac asks. 

Scott thinks for a moment. “I think it’s a good idea. I think Cora and Derek are strong allies.” 

“Do you trust him?” It’s Lydia this time, and it takes Stiles by surprise. She looks calculating, like she’s almost figured something out but isn’t ready to share it. 

Scott again takes his time, like he’s making sure he means what he says. “Yeah, I do.” He smiles a little at some point in the distance, and then refocuses on the people around him. “What do you guys think?” 

“I agree, I think it’s a good idea.” Kira isn’t smiling anymore but there’s a brightness in her eyes as she speaks. “It makes sense. And what’ll happen to them if we decline, will they be omegas?” The thought almost makes Stiles cringe. 

“We shouldn’t let that influence our decision.” Stiles gives Isaac a look for that comment but he’s too busy looking at Scott to notice it. A sarcastic reply sits on the tip of his tongue, but the last thing they need right now is for this to turn in to an argument. And Isaac has a point, in a way. 

“It will, though,” Scott retorts, “because even if Derek and Cora aren’t pack or don’t become pack, they’re still allies. What happens to them matters.” Stiles nods along with that. The action draws attention from Scott as well as the rest of the group.

“We all know what Stilinski’s gonna say.” Isaac almost sounds bored.

“Okay, what does that mean?” Stiles barely manages to keep his tone mostly even. 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with the Hales lately. And you knew they were going to ask to join the pack.” Lydia stares straight ahead as she speaks, still thinking and barely paying attention to what she’s saying, like it’s so obvious it doesn’t require any thought. 

“They’re good people.” Stiles feels a little defensive, like he has to justify why he likes being with Derek and Cora, but decides to take a different route. “Look, ever since Scott was bitten, the Derek we knew wasn’t really Derek. Hell, Derek probably been Derek since the fire.” He gets a couple raised eyebrows at that, but keeps going. “The same goes for Cora. It’s not really fair to assume that because Derek made some shitty decisions while he was Alpha, which he never wanted to be anyway, it means he’s a bad person. And it’s not fair to alienate Cora either.” 

Nobody speaks for several moments after he’s finished his little rant, and everyone seems to be deep in thought, except for Lydia. Whatever she was puzzling over before she has obviously figured out, and her eyes are soft when they meet Stiles’. 

“He’s right.” Lydia’s gaze then turns to Scott. “I don’t see any reason to decline them. There aren’t any real negatives.” Scott nods, any everyone’s attention shifts to Isaac.

He’s staring at the ground, not meeting anyone’s eyes, when he finally speaks up. “Yeah, okay, it makes sense.” His voice is a little rough, like he’s got a lump in his throat, and Stiles hopes that means he’s finally getting over himself enough to realize that Derek isn’t an asshole, he’s just kind of an idiot when people are in danger. 

“That settles it.” Scott and Kira are back to basically beaming, and then beaming at each other, which is gross and inappropriate. Stiles tells them so. 

“Children,” Lydia chides with a smirk. “How are we going to tell them?” 

“Like Stiles isn’t going to text Derek the second he thinks we’re not paying attention.” This time the comment comes from Kira, and her tone is a lot more playful. He throws up a scandalized look at the implication. 

“Do it, but invite him and Cora to my house on Friday. We can have a game night.” There’s a glint to Scott’s eye and a quirk to his brow that spells trouble to Stiles and makes Isaac chuckle. 

“That is a horrible way to try and make someone feel welcome.” Recalling the last pack game of monopoly and realizing he’ll ever get over the sting of betrayal, Stiles sighs. 

“Now, for the more important business.” Scott claps his hands together. “Pizza toppings and movie titles.”

The sheriff comes home a few minutes later in the middle of an intense debate over the merit of pre-2004 Adam Sandler movies and freezes when he sees the group of teenagers. Stiles feels guilty for a moment about the night before but doesn’t know what to say. 

“Everything’s okay, Sheriff.” Scott’s using his earnest voice, and Stiles realizes that he must have interpreted their meeting as an emergency session. 

“We’re just hanging out for a while, if that’s cool.” Stiles forgets sometimes that they are all actually teenagers. Bonds like pack don’t feel like temporary things; most people their age don’t live with that kind of commitment. There’s a level of importance and responsibility there that he’s not sure his dad will ever understand. 

The tension leaves the sheriff and he just looks tired. “Yeah, sure, knock yourselves out.” 

 

After Kira calls in the pizza order and Lydia is tasked with finding the movies online, Stiles sneaks away to the bathroom. He texts Derek, “Welcome to the pack, sourwolf. Scott wants to do a game night with everyone on Friday.” 

The reply comes from Derek about 25 seconds later, an unheard of speed, but Stiles was almost expecting that. “I will probably loose, but do not underestimate Cora, she a hustler.” After another minute, a second text comes through. “Thank you, though. Really.” 

Stiles smirks down at his phone and punches out, “Any time.”


	14. Chapter 14

Despite the happy day that Monday was for Stiles, that night brings terrible nightmares. First, the now-familiar sight of the Nogitsune burning down the new Hale house with his entire pack inside; then, the bomb in the sheriff’s station blowing his father, Derek, and Chris Argent into little tiny bits; imagining what Cora, Boyd, and Erica went through during their time in the bank vault.

The night drags endlessly on until finally Stiles’ alarm goes off. His morning routine is a slow process and Stiles just barely avoids being late to school. 

The day is an exhausting one. With everything that happened the day before Stiles feels closer to his friends, his pack, than he has in a while. Yet their presence during his time at school feels tiring somehow. Like he’s used up all his social energy. Scott seems concerned, probably because he had been pretty quiet during lunch, and finds him on the way out to his Jeep after school.

“You feeling okay?” Scott’s hand comes to rest on Stiles’ shoulder, and the gesture is comforting, but doesn’t curb his fatigue. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Just tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Scott nods and gives him a pat before sauntering off to his bike. 

 

When Stiles gets home the sheriff is on the couch watching a baseball game. The man tosses a greeting behind his shoulder but is enamored with the screen. Stiles smiles to himself and makes a decision. 

A couple minutes later, during a commercial, Stiles sits on the couch next to his father. He catches a second of surprise in the man’s eyes, but it’s quickly replaced by a smile. 

“Hey, son.” The sheriff shifts a little to face Stiles more than the TV, but it looks more like an unconscious movement than a conscious one.

“Hey Dad. I was wondering, if you wanted to, tomorrow night you could help me with some of the basics on the guitar.” Stiles find his eyes drifting down to his hands as he says this, but ends up looking the sheriff in the eye, wanting to seem sincere. 

“Of course.” His father’s smile changes, softens a little “If that’s what you want, of course.” 

“Cool. Good.” Stiles ducks his head and gets up off the couch, heading upstairs, but the sheriff stops him.

“Stiles, one more thing. Yesterday was…” Stiles knows his father is referring to the pack meeting. 

“Nothing to worry about, we were just talking. About Derek.” Stiles isn’t sure what compels him to mention Derek, maybe he’s just too tired not to be transparent. 

“In a good way, I hope.” The sheriff’s view of Derek changed, Stiles thinks, after he learned about all of the supernatural happenings. He no longer sees him as a threat. 

“Yeah.” Stiles feels a smile spread across his face. “It’s hard to explain, but we’re more… one big team, now.” His father may never understand what pack means or how a pack functions but hopefully he can understand, at least a little, that they are completely united now.

“That’s good to hear.” The game comes back on and Stiles doesn’t want to compete for the man’s attention so he clambers up the stairs and straight in to bed, deciding a small nap is in order. 

 

Stiles’ phone buzzes him awake just before the climax of a nightmare and he counts that as a win. It’s from Derek, and there’s no next, just a picture of Cora covered in flour and what looks like cocoa. Stiles replies “A modern masterpiece.” 

Stiles texts a little back and forth with Derek while attempting to get a head start on that week’s homework, learning that the picture he received was the aftermath of Cora trying to make brownies. He has some trouble concentrating, partly because the rivers of Africa are just not that interesting, but also some of the lingering fatigue he’s been feeling all day. 

Apparently Derek can tell, because he’s interrupted from zoning out on a map of the Blue Nile by his phone ringing and flashing Derek’s name at him. 

He answers the phone with a “hey,” but Derek cuts right in. 

“You okay?” Stiles is a little surprised; it had taken Scott all day to think something was wrong but all it takes Derek is a few text messages. He’s also surprised at how much he can pick up from Derek’s tone (that he’s trying to be nonchalant but direct at the same time, and it makes him sound halfway confused. Stiles surmises that Derek isn’t used to expressing casual concern and is still awkward about it.)

“I’m fine, just tired.” It sounds like a cop out, but it’s the honest truth. 

“Still having nightmares?” Derek’s tone is no longer confused, nor is it particularly hesitant. Conversational, more like. 

“Yeah.” Stiles isn’t sure what to say after that. There’s nothing Derek or Scott or even Stiles can do about the nightmares and the lack of sleep and the panic attacks. 

They remain silent for a little while, and it reminds Stiles of the couple months after his mom died, he would call Scott really late at night and they would fall asleep on the phone together. Derek breaks his train of thought. 

“Come over tomorrow?” It strikes Stiles that making Derek official pack but not planning on seeing him until Friday is kind of crappy. There’s a certain level of vulnerability for both him and Cora involved that they aren’t used to displaying. “You don’t have to work on the house, you can just hang out here if you want.” 

“Yeah, okay, I will.” Stiles warms to the idea of sitting outside and reading in the sun, to the sound of wood and nails and the smell of sawdust. “I can’t stay for dinner though,” Stiles remembers, “I told my dad we could do stuff with the guitar.” He feels nervous and excited when he says it out loud. 

“Good,” Derek clears his throat, “that’s really good.” 

“It should be.” The companionable silence returns for a minute, and eventually Stiles excuses himself to finish his homework with a “see you tomorrow.” 

 

When Stiles pulls in to what will eventually be the driveway of what will eventually be the Hale house, he sees that they’ve made ample progress on the structure of the house. It all seems to be coming together rather quickly, though he has no base line for how long a house takes to build. 

Grabbing his backpack Stiles hops out of the car and looks for a spot to settle in with his textbook. Before he finds one he catches sight of Derek walking towards him, smiling like he really wants to be beaming but is trying to hold himself back. It’s definitely an expression Stiles has never seen on Derek, and he drops his backpack at his feet. The confusion over Derek’s expression leaves him slightly speechless when Derek finally approaches. 

Derek puts his hands in his pockets, and takes them back out a few seconds later. Stiles just barely gets through the word “Hey,” before Derek has suddenly wrapped him up in a slightly tentative hug. Well, as tentative as a hug can be when the hugger has shoulders that are approximately 10 miles wide and weighs way more than you. 

Stiles is completely shocked for a moment, but after that second, he puts his arms around Derek, with his hands splayed on the man’s back. Derek relaxes a little bit then, exhaling, the breath on the back of his neck almost making Stiles shiver. Stiles tucks his chin over Derek’s shoulder and tries to appreciate how good Derek smells without being really creepy about it and ruining whatever new-pack-bonding moment they’re having. A third person latches on to Stiles’ side, and he turns his face in to Cora’s dark hair, lifting a hand from Derek and putting it on the back of her neck. 

Outside of Scott, Stiles never really saw himself as someone who needed or particularly craved physical affection. He and his father hugged once in a while and when he was little he cuddled with his parents like any child, but after his mother died it was just different. As he’s discovering, though, the pack’s touch fills in this little hole he barely knew was inside of him quite nicely. Instead of exhausting him it warms him up and makes him completely content. 

In this moment, in this embrace, he swears he almost feels the connection that the wolves must feel. Like for a second they don’t feel like three separate individual people but one living organism, unable to function without each other. Like Derek is his heart beating in his chest and Cora is his lungs taking in his air and even beyond that, somewhere, Scott is all of his muscles, Lydia is his fingertips and Isaac is his ribcage and Kira is his skin where he can feel the wind blowing softly. Everything melts away and the wholeness of their pack, even without everyone present, clicks in to place in Stiles’ mind. 

Derek’s hand squeezes a little where it’s resting on Stiles’ spine and it snaps him back to the present right before they start to pull away from each other. Stiles opens his eyes, which he doesn’t remember closing, and the sight of Derek and Cora looking at him so contentedly almost makes him want to cry. Bringing his hands up to each of their shoulders Stiles sighs and gives them each a squeeze. He has no idea what to say in this situation. 

Cora starts to giggle, probably at him, and he shoves her shoulder where his hand was. Derek rolls his eyes at them and everything is exactly where it should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. I have now just begun the insane schedule of doing college classes on the weekdays and then driving 84 miles to work from my dad's house on the weekends, so I might be tight on time but I promise there is a lot left in this story!! Thanks for all your comments and encouragements :)


	15. Chapter 15

With Derek and Cora officially in the pack, things begin to settle in to a steady rhythm, for which Stiles couldn’t be more grateful. 

The game night goes pretty much how Stiles suspected it would; Isaac wrecks everyone at Clue, smirking at Stiles when he makes the winning accusation. Monopoly gets intense with that many people, and there’s lots of yelling, but that game is closer. At the end it gets down to Lydia and Cora. Lydia lands right on Cora’s highest value property and instead of painfully mortgaging out properties to see if she can pay the debt she concedes, with a handshake and an appraising look to Cora. 

Stiles learns to play the guitar. It’s frustrating at first, with his fingers not able to keep up with his hyperactive mind, but after a couple of tries he gets in to the groove of things. It’s worth it to see the look on the sheriff’s face. They’ve found something they can connect over again, and Stiles steadily feels less guilty about everything he’s put the man through. 

The pack sets up biweekly bonding nights, alternating between the loft and Scott’s house. Watching movies, playing games, talking patrol strategy, doing homework, studying for big tests, they do all of it. At some point between the first game night and the next meeting Isaac and Derek must sit down and have some kind of talk, because they go from awkwardly acknowledging each other to tentative smiles and little touches. The last of the tension bleeds out of the group with that and it becomes everything Stiles was hoping it would be. 

Stiles also ends up at the Hale house and/or the loft after school a lot. He’s not doing lacrosse anymore, quit the team after the whole Nogitsune thing, so the exercise of working on the house does him a lot of good, and other days he just does his homework or reads on the lawn next to the site. More times than not he, Derek, and Cora end up bringing take out to the loft or going back to Stiles’ house to eat. Sometimes Derek helps Stiles cook, because apparently that’s something he can do. 

The nightmares don’t go away, but they also don’t get worse. Stiles begins to open up to his pack about them and it helps take some of the burden and panic away from him. He talks to Scott at school when he has a particularly hard day, and accepts the brownie half that Kira scoots toward him at lunch the next day.

A mix of reoccurring and horrifyingly new dreams awaits him most nights, but sometimes he’ll go two or three days without any, like he’s being allowed to catch up only to get pushed back behind again. One night in late April Stiles goes to bed optimistic, hoping to keep his two day streak going. Unfortunately it doesn’t work out that way. 

 

He starts out in the woods, not necessarily lost but more walking aimlessly, without purpose. The sound of several gunshots startles him out of this stupor and he starts to run in the direction of the road. It seems to take him forever to get there, like he’s running in 3 feet of water. The sun is setting and it’s getting darker and harder to navigate.

Finally he reaches the road, lit up by the headlights of two parked cars. There are figures standing in front of the cars a ways down the road from him, and another lone figure standing in the middle of the road, only about 10 feet away. Silence hangs heavy and Stiles’ mind reels trying to identify any of the people in front of him. The sun finally drops down behind the horizon and it acts as some kind of que for the car people to start firing rapidly at the figure in the road. At the first gunshot everything becomes clear; the people by the cars are all dressed in black with rifles, and Stiles can almost smell the wolfsbane from where he’s standing. And the figure in the road, now being pummeled by bullets, is Derek. 

Stiles runs to him, reaching him just as the rapid fire ceases and the figures seem to disappear in to the air. Derek hits the ground hard and Stiles kneels down over him, turning his head to face him in the dim light. The last thing he sees before he wakes up is the light leaving Derek’s eyes. 

Stiles shoots out of bed, clumsily landing on the floor and reaching back to his nightstand for his phone. His dad is still snoring down the hall so he must not have been screaming, but he’s completely panicking now, as he tries to tap the screen on his phone with shaky, sweaty hands. Eventually he gets them to do what he wants and only has to wait one ring. 

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice is husky from sleep but alert enough that he’s worried. The clock on his phone tells Stiles that it’s past 3am but he’ll have time to feel guilty about that later. 

“I’m okay,” Stiles struggles to speak a little through his shallow breaths. “I just, a dream-“ 

“Just breathe.” There’s a rustling on the line, like Derek’s getting out of bed, at least moving around. It brings Stiles back to reality a little bit. He concentrates on that, the tone of Derek’s voice, the feeling of the floor beneath him. 

“Okay, I’m good.” Stiles feels steadier and more awake. “Sorry to wake you up-“ 

“Don’t worry about that.” Derek sounds more relaxed as well. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just…“ Stiles thinks about it for a second, feeling his cheeks color before he says the next part out loud. “I just needed to hear your voice, I guess.” 

Derek hesitates before replying. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Stiles usually doesn’t like to talk about the details, not finding it helpful to relive the dreams, but this time he does. “In the woods, there were hunters, maybe, but they also could have been Oni.” The way they vanished into the night gives him a little chill. “You died.” The last word is a whisper.

“Oh.” Again, Derek hesitates, like it’s not what he was expecting. “I’m sorry.” 

For some reason the response makes Stiles laugh. Derek is apologizing for dying in Stiles’ dream. What a Derek thing to do. After Stiles giggles himself out, Derek continues. 

“I promise I’m not dead. I’m not going anywhere.” 

They talk after that, Stiles not really wanting to go back to sleep, for about an hour. Derek falls asleep before Stiles does, very softly snoring in to his phone. Stiles falls back asleep that night (morning) with a smile on his face. 

 

Stiles tries not to make a habit of it, but it’s comforting to know that if he has a particularly bad dream or panic attack that Derek is there to answer the phone, and sometimes talk to him until he can fall back asleep. Derek opens up to him about the fact that he has nightmares sometimes, too. 

“You know this isn’t one way, that if you ever need or want to talk to me about something, you can, right?” Stiles says one night (he’s much braver on the phone, especially at 2am). 

“Right.” Stiles hopes that Derek actually takes that to heart, but doesn’t completely expect him to. He’s come a long way, and he’s pack, but Stiles doesn’t want to put too much pressure on him, so he lets it go. 

Apparently Derek is full of surprises. 

 

A weeknight a few days later has Stiles feeling completely restless. It’s raining outside and the sound of it, usually comforting, sets him on edge. Around midnight he pulls his laptop in to his bed and wanders the internet for a while, settling on rewatching old YouTube videos. Stiles only intends to watch a few to get himself tired enough to sleep, but ends up getting slightly carried away. The volume on his computer is low enough that he can hear his phone buzz with a call sometime around 2:30. 

The first thought Stiles has when he sees Derek’s name on the screen is panic. Most of the time hearing from Derek in the middle night means trouble. He rips his headphones out and answers the call with a slightly frantic, “Derek?” 

“Hi.” 

“Um.” He doesn’t sound out of breath, or like he’s in pain, which is a good sign. But that’s not a lot to work with. “Hey?” 

The line is silent for a couple seconds but, right as Stiles is about to say something, Derek continues. “Did I wake you up?”

“Ah, no, actually.” Stiles can hear some feedback on the line, almost like wind, as if Derek were outside. “I couldn’t sleep.” 

“Me either.” The wind picks up outside Stiles’ window, at the same time the static over the line intensifies. On a hunch, Stiles gets out of bed, flicks his light on, and moves to the window. Sure enough, Derek’s leaning against the door of the Camaro, parked on the other side of the street. 

“Would you like to come in?” Derek doesn’t reply, just looks up at the window for a few seconds and then hangs up the phone. Stiles opens the widow and moves back to the bed to give Derek room to land. 

Once he’s inside Derek just kind of stands in front of the window looking a little sheepish. Stiles just waits on the bed. Eventually Derek looks up and makes eye contact. Stiles pats the bed next to him a couple of times, and after eyeing it for a few more seconds, Derek sits next to him. He doesn’t relax though, shoulders tense and hands clasped in his lap. 

Stiles wants to put his hand on Derek’s arm, to try to get him to loosen up, but decides against it. “What’s up?” 

Derek half laughs and half sighs, shaking his head, but stays silent. 

This time Stiles’ hand moves of its own volition and lands on Derek’s arm right under the crook of his elbow. “C’mon,” Stiles tries, “talk to me.”

Derek turns his head to look at Stiles appraisingly. “You’re too nice to me.” 

Though his voice is barely a whisper the comment takes Stiles completely by surprise. He tries not to let it show on his face, instead going for a soft smile. “I’m not that nice.” 

Derek again studies Stiles’ face for a moment and turns his eyes back to his hands. “There are things you don’t know about me.” This puts a frown back on Stiles’ face. 

“So tell me.” A frustrated sigh escapes Derek and he brings his hands up to his face, then slowly drags them back down. “Look, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But if something is wrong-“ 

“I’m sorry for bothering you.” Derek abruptly stands and moves toward the window. “Coming here was a mistake.” 

Stiles feels that like a punch in the gut, but that doesn’t keep him from jumping up and grabbing Derek’s arm. “Derek, please.” It’s enough to stop the man. 

It starts to rain outside. Derek turns back around and Stiles drops his arms. The air coming in through the window gives him a chill. 

“You really want to know?” Derek’s voice has taken a dangerous tone, the voice of the Derek knew a year ago instead of the one he’s come to know. Stiles just nods. “You want to know why I have nightmares? What wakes me up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat?” Derek’s almost smiling now, but Stiles refuses to back up or back down, nodding again and crossing his arms. 

“The fire,” Derek starts, nostrils flailing, voice practically a growl, “was my fault.” A second chill runs down Stiles’ spine, nothing to do with the cold. His arms droop a little, shock loosening his grip. 

“Derek.” Stiles tries to gather up as much authority in his tone as possible. “No matter what happened, that’s not true.” 

Another half laugh. “You don’t know the story. Stiles, I let her in.”

Stiles refuses to settle with half of the truth, to let Derek blame himself. He can’t possibly be responsible for it. “What do you mean?” 

“Kate. I let her in.” 

“You’re not telling me the whole story.” Stiles is in puzzle mode now; he has to know everything. And all he knows now is that it can’t be Derek’s fault; he won’t believe it. 

“Do I have to? Isn’t that enough?” 

“No, it’s not enough. Derek I may not know everything about you but I know you. I know who you are.” Stiles has to remind himself to keep his voice down, that it’s close to 3 in the morning. “I know you wouldn’t put anyone you love in danger, not on purpose.” 

Derek scoffs and turns away from Stiles for a moment, like he’s deciding. Eventually he begins to speak, still not facing Stiles completely. 

“She was a volunteer at the school.” He spits the words out like they’re poisonous. “That’s how we met.” Turning to face Stiles, Derek loses the snark and the smiles. “I was young and stupid and she was beautiful and patient. I had never met any of the Argents before. I was blinded by her interest in me.” 

Stiles’ heart drops when he realizes what Derek is saying, what he’s implying happened between Kate and himself. “It took her three months to convince me we were in love.” Derek has turned his stare to the ground, his eyes the greyest Stiles has ever seen them. Stiles struggles to think of something to say, but the idea of Kate manipulating Derek like that, with the goal of killing his entire family, runs through his brain endlessly. There’s only one thing he can think about. 

“Did you – did she-“ 

“Did I sleep with her?” Their eyes meet and Derek’s are challenging. “Yes. And a week later I gave her every bit of knowledge she used to set my house on fire and murder most of my family. Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m not a monster now.” 

Though his limbs feel frozen where they are, Stiles forces them forward until he’s standing close to Derek and looks him straight in the eye. “You’re not a monster.”

The challenge in Derek’s eye doesn’t go away, he just seems to get angrier. “She would never have known how to pull it off if it weren’t for me.” 

“How old were you?” Stiles knows the answer; he can do the math. But he wants Derek to say it. 

“Fifteen.” Some of the fire has leeched out of Derek’s tone, like he’s wearing himself out. 

“Listen to me very carefully.” Stiles takes the risk of reaching out to Derek, laying his hands on the man’s shoulders, praying he doesn’t flinch away. The stiffness of his body doesn’t relax, but he stays where he is. “What that woman did to you when you were fifteen does not in any way mean that the fire was your fault. She took advantage of you.” 

“I shouldn’t have trusted her.” Derek seems to tire with every word. “I put them in danger.” 

“And you’re supposed to assume that she’s going to do what she did?” Stiles tightens his grip on Derek’s shoulders. “Even if that’s the case, you can’t go on blaming yourself for this. You’re the only one who does.” Derek’s gaze returns to the ground and something occurs to Stiles. “Who else have you told about this?” 

It takes Derek a few seconds to reply. “Nobody.” Eventually the man looks back to Stiles and his eyes are full of such sadness, such vulnerability, Stiles can’t help himself. He moves his hands, one to the back of Derek’s neck and the other between his shoulder blades, and pulls him in. To Stiles surprise Derek immediately pulls his arms to Stiles’ back. The anger and self-contempt were all a show. 

“Thank you for coming here.” Derek obviously needed to talk to someone about this, and Stiles is grateful that he was the one Derek chose. All he gets in reply is a heavy sigh, and expelled with it is the last of the tension from Derek. 

Eventually Stiles pulls back from Derek, not completely, but enough to face him. “Stay?” He can’t imagine Derek driving home right now and frankly doesn’t want to. Stiles would feel exponentially better to have Derek with him, feeling a very strong compulsion to keep him safe.

Nodding, Derek releases Stiles completely and lets himself be guided over to the bed. He lays down on the same side he did that night he came here wounded and bloodied. Stiles finds himself in the same position as well, and though there’s enough moonlight from the window that they can see each other perfectly, neither says a word. 

 

Stiles doesn’t know when he falls asleep, but he wakes up the next morning a few minutes before his alarm, with Derek next to him looking as dopey in sleep as he ever does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the little time jump was okay, and that everyone enjoyed the chapter, please leave me some feedback!! Thanks!


	16. Chapter 16

Before Derek leaves that morning Stiles stops him at the window. “If that last night was an attempt at pushing me away, you know it won’t work, right?” 

Derek had been gruff since he woke up, but something in his face softens, and he sighs. 

“Seriously, I’m like a leech. You’re stuck with me now.” At that Derek rolls his eyes, and Stiles considers it a success. He promises to come by the site after school. 

 

When he gets to school he texts Scott saying he won’t be at lunch today. He has to run home and get something done. 

After 4th period he goes straight to the Jeep and drives back to his house. The sheriff isn’t working that day but he doesn’t seem to be home, so Stiles must have caught him on errands or something. Anyway, he’s glad his father isn’t there to question him. 

Cora had asked him in passing to recommend her some music about a week ago. Stiles knows there must be some blank CD’s somewhere in his room, and it takes him five minutes to dig them up. Everything is downloaded on his computer, all he has to do is burn them on to the CD.

He also finds a paper sheath for the disk, which he of course decorates with little drawings of wolves, because he is incredibly cheesy. The whole thing takes him about fifteen minutes and all he has time to do is grab a couple of pop tarts and jump back in the Jeep to get back to school in time. 

 

Pulling up to the site of the Hale house, Stiles has to calm his excitement to seem nonchalant. He finds Cora and says hello, but Derek seems to be in a deep conversation with another member of the work crew, and Stiles doesn’t want to disturb him. He has an economics test on Monday and damn him if he isn’t going to get caught up on the homework. Coach may not be able to kick him off the team anymore but he’s still a pretty irritating guy to have on your back. 

As the workers taper off Derek comes over to where Stiles is puzzling over his textbook. “Sorry I haven’t really seen you,” the man starts, looking a little uncomfortable, “we’re finalizing a lot of the interior design.” 

“Not a problem, big guy. We on for takeout after?” 

Some of the tension leaves Derek’s face in favor of a small smile. “Of course.” 

“Good, because I brought a present for Cora.” Both of them turn their heads towards where Cora is standing. She heard him of course, and is now smiling in their direction. Cora turns to her work more vigorously now as if she’s trying to get it done to get to the loft faster and it pulls a laugh out of Derek. Stiles laughs too, but he finds his gaze on Derek then, his mind trying to reconcile the man he was with last night with the one in front of him. 

He’s interrupted from his musings when Derek looks back to him and catches him. The smile induced by his sister becomes a little shyer under the scrutiny but Derek doesn’t call him out on it. 

Not long after that, Derek decides they should call it a day, and Stiles gets to the Jeep to meet them back at the loft. 

 

Stiles makes a stop at a local bakery before he gets to the loft. Cora loves their macaroons and Derek shares Stiles’ particular taste for the chocolate raspberry mousse. It’s relatively inexpensive so he doesn’t mind picking up the deserts once in a while, especially when Derek still refuses to let him pay for his food. 

When he arrives at the loft Cora is waiting to open the door for him. First he presents the goods from the bakery, but when she tries to reach in the bag he swats her hand away and takes it back. “You’ll spoil your dinner.” She grumbles a little but Derek’s laugh from the couch is totally worth it. 

“This isn’t the present though.” Cora looks at him suspiciously until he pulls the disk out of his sweatshirt pocket. “I made you a mix CD.”  
“Oh my god.” She takes the case eagerly and wonders over to Derek to point out the little pictures he drew on the outside. He wants Derek to be interested, that was part of his plan, but Stiles feels his cheeks heat nonetheless. 

They eat the pizza Derek orders in front of the TV, yelling at Steve Harvey and the Family Feud contestants, as they love to do. Because Derek and Cora are actually werewolves, and apparently need to eat half their weight at every meal, Stiles puts down an insurmountable pile of pizza just to keep up, and subsequently slouches down on the couch in a food coma. 

Cora is bouncing her seat though, wanting to listen to the CD. “Put it on then,” Stiles suggests, “I think Derek will like it too.” She starts it from the beginning, a Kooks song, and Derek doesn’t seem particularly interested. Stiles makes his greatest attempt at being subtle when he tells Cora to skip to the fourth track. 

He doesn’t want his intent completely unnoticed, though, so he looks at Derek as he says it. The man eventually meets his eyes and looks a little puzzled. Eventually Stiles breaks eye contact, mostly because he’s isn’t sure how Derek will respond. Again, he feels his cheeks heat a little, even before the song begins in earnest. 

The first notes flood the room and Derek listens this time, which is what Stiles wanted. Cora gets this focused look on her face when she listens to music for the first time, and she isn’t paying much attention to her surroundings, totally concentrated. 

_“You say things with your mouth,_  
_Cobwebs and flies come out._  
_I hear a second voice,_  
_Behind your tongue somehow._  
_Luckily, I can read your mind,_  
_Cobwebs and flies unwind.”_

Derek’s brow is furrowed, he’s listening, but he doesn’t understand. Stiles waits a little longer, until a specific verse, and looks up to Derek, waiting for eye contact.

_“I’ll pray that one day you see,_  
_The only difference between life and dying_  
_Is one is trying_  
_That’s all we gotta do_  
_So try to love me and I’ll try to save you_

_Won’t you stay alive,_  
_I’ll take you on a ride_  
_I will make you believe you are lovely.”_

It’s then that Derek finally looks back to Stiles and their eyes lock. Derek’s face has relaxed in shock and it almost makes Stiles want to look down, but he doesn’t. Stiles feels his heart speed up a little bit and everything except for the words and Derek’s face fades away. 

_“Your redemption won’t grow stale,_  
_We are now just setting sail_  
_On the seas of what we fear_  
_Treason now is growing near to me_  
_I’m coming clean_  
_God hit me straight on.”_

Derek breaks their eye contact and it brings Stiles back to reality. Cora is sitting back with her eyes closed, no idea of what has passed between Stiles and Derek. Stiles isn’t really sure what happened either. But he finds it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes off of Derek, though it seems Derek is making an effort not to meet his eyes. 

The lyrics repeat a little and then the song is over. Cora sits up and smiles at Stiles. It really wasn’t much of a reach to include the song; he’s been wanting to introduce her (and Derek, if he’s being honest) to Twenty One Pilots for a while. She doesn’t have much time to say anything until the next song comes on, a lot lighter than the one before it. Derek clears his throat and gets up to carry their trash to the little kitchen area. 

Cora doesn’t make anything of it, and after a few seconds Stiles gets up to follow him. From the set of Derek’s shoulders he feels like he’s done something wrong. He stands behind the man, at the corner of the wall that denotes the kitchen, for a few seconds silently, trying to decide what to say. Derek turns around to face him, an undecipherable look on his face. 

“So,” Stiles starts nervously, “what did you think?” 

Stiles tries to keep his heart steady as he waits for Derek’s reply. “You,” he begins eventually, “are an unending puzzle to me.” It catches Stiles off guard. He’d thought his intent was pretty clear. 

“Ditto,” he finds himself saying. Cora is calling Stiles back in to the living room with a question and the moment breaks again. 

They listen to a few more songs and the semi-awkwardness between Stiles and Derek dissipates. Eventually the two start tossing little pieces of crumpled up napkin at each other until Cora takes the CD upstairs to “appreciate” alone. Stiles and Derek smirk at her and then at each other after she leaves. 

The two stay together on the couch, having a casual conversation about school and the next pack meeting and other things. “How is it going with the guitar?” Derek’s voice takes that slightly over-casual edge, like he’s making the question seem casual but there’s more meaning behind it. 

His caution is unnecessary, though. “It’s really good. I’m not super amazing at it or anything but it’s nice to do.” Stiles had gotten over whatever had made him freak out the night the guitar was presented to him. Mostly, at least. “Sometimes when my head gets too jumbled up I can use it to focus on something.” 

“That’s good, I’m glad.” Cora descends the stairs then, and Derek gets a glint in his eyes that makes Stiles a little nervous. “You should bring it here some time, or play for us when we’re at your house.” 

“Play what for us?” Cora plops down on Stiles’ other side and looks to Derek. 

Stiles narrows his eyes at the man, but Derek’s small smile just gets bigger. God damn. 

“Stiles is learning how to play the guitar.” 

“It’s not – I’m not –“ Stiles tries, but the expression on Cora’s face, mimicking her bother’s, stops him. “You’re evil.” He turns back to Derek. “Both of you.” 

Cora punches him lightly in the shoulder and he rubs the spot, feigning injury. “Love you too.” She sets her head down on his shoulder and he huffs a little, but can’t help himself from settling in to the position. When he looks back over to Derek he has a sort of faraway expression in his eyes. 

 

Eventually it gets late and Stiles has to go home. He bids the siblings goodbye and heads down to the Jeep. Just as he’s unlocking the door, however, he hears Derek call his name. Turning around he sees the man jog up to him with a small paper bag. 

“You forgot your half.” Stiles had been too stuffed to eat the mousse and forgotten all about it. 

Stiles takes the bag with a “thanks,” but he’s not sure what else to say. The air is charged in the same way it was in the kitchen. Like an unfinished sentience. 

Derek starts to back up and Stiles opens the door to get in. “You know,” Derek calls back, now about 15 feet from the vehicle. “Now that you know what happened, you don’t have to… It’s not your job to –“ Derek struggles like there’s something he doesn’t want to say out loud. Stiles assumes he’s referencing the song.

“I know.” Stiles understands that Derek isn’t a task or a job. He’s more complex than that. “I won’t stop though.” Stiles smiles and jumps in to the driver’s seat, not giving Derek time to respond. Derek may never stop blaming himself for what happened, but that doesn’t mean Stiles will stop trying to convince him otherwise.


	17. Chapter 17

After that day Stiles makes up a little game for himself. He tries to find every way he can casually use the word lovely in conversation with Derek, or when Derek is around. It takes a few times for Derek to catch on, and he resorts to rolling his eyes or even smacking Stiles lightly. It’s pretty puzzling to the rest of the pack, especially Cora, who he has to tell it’s an “inside joke”. 

One reason he doesn’t tell anyone else about the actual meaning is that the whole story about Kate is pretty central to the idea. Not that there aren’t other things that Derek blames himself for that aren’t his fault; Erica, Boyd, Jackson, et cetera. 

The other reason is that he kind of wants to keep something between Derek and himself. The knowledge about Derek isn’t happy or positive and it’s not a good thing that Derek himself hasn’t told anyone else, but a tiny part of Stiles enjoys knowing things about Derek that other people don’t. It makes him feel like he’s closer to figuring him out. 

The days that Stiles doesn't go to the loft he dedicates to coming home after school to practice the guitar, sometimes with his dad around and sometimes on his own. After they had gone over a lot of the basics the sheriff had told him to pick a simple song and try to dissect it and learn it. It had taken Stiles a while to decide on a song, something easy enough for him to learn, but also something he enjoys and finds meaning in. 

When he was first learning the song he had his dad around to help him out with getting his fingers exactly right or making sure he was reading it right. At this point though he feels more comfortable practicing on his own. He’s really got most of it down, at this point it’s just a matter of memorization and not messing the chords up. 

It really does help him focus. When he feels like his head is bogged up with too many thoughts (and memories) he can pick up the guitar and just focus on where he needs to fingers and how the notes sound. Stiles knows he’s not much of a singer, but he also didn’t pick a song that required that. Singing and playing together is a lot harder than just playing, though, and it takes him a little longer to feel comfortable with. Eventually, he gets the hang of it just the same.

 

Every time he sees Derek after that day, there’s this unidentifiable charge in the air between them. It’s not awkward or bad per say, but it always feels like they’ve left something unsaid, and Stiles can never figure out what. 

At the pack meeting that weekend they’re sitting next to each other on the couch in the loft and Derek gets up to refill his water glass, grabbing Stiles' also empty one as well. When he brings the glasses back Stiles looks at him and says, “Oh, thanks, how _lovely_ of you.”

The shove he gets from Derek is playful enough but afterward he feels like every time he looks Derek’s way he’s not looking back, but when he’s not looking at Derek he can feel eyes on him. It doesn’t interfere with their relationship much after that, Stiles still comes over all the time and they still text and occasionally talk on the phone, and Stiles isn’t sure that Derek even feels it at all and he isn't making whole thing up in his head. But to Stiles it’s definitely there, and it’s confusing. 

About a week after it starts it has driven Stiles slightly crazy, but he doesn’t know what to do about it. So he does what he usually does when he doesn’t know what to do; asks Scott. 

On rare days Scott will come over after school, just the two of them, and they’ll do some sort of Scott and Stiles thing, usually video games. During one of their snack breaks, Stiles tries to bring up the subject without giving too much away. 

“Hey Scott,” he says as he pulls the Doritos out of the secret junk food cabinet, “have you ever had a situation with someone where you felt like there was something to say, but you didn’t know what?” 

By the look on Scott’s face he has no idea. “What do you mean, something to say?” The way Scott stares in to the Dorito bag like it’s perplexing is hilarious and breaks Stiles’ concentration a little, but he thinks on a better way to phrase it. 

“It’s like anything you can think to say isn’t good enough. Like an unfinished sentience.” 

Scott considers the Doritos again for a few moments and then his face softens a little. “Yeah, I think so.” He meets Stiles eyes over the kitchen table. “I used to feel that way with Allison a lot. Especially after we broke up. Like saying I love you didn’t fit anymore, but I couldn’t figure out what it was that I wanted to say. Unfinished business.” 

Scott’s response startles Stiles speechless. It’s the first time someone has purposefully brought up Allison to him since she died. Everyone avoids the subject like the plague. But the look on Scott’s face isn’t one of sadness or even regret. He is smiling softly, as if recalling a happy memory. It doesn't seem like an accident either, it seems like it was purposeful. That alone is what keeps Stiles from panicking. 

Meaning, he doesn’t panic over the fact that Scott mentioned Allison. What he panics over, a few hours later after Scott has gone home and he plays the conversation over in his head, is the fact that Scott experienced this with Allison, aka his first love. What in the hell does that mean about him getting this feeling around Derek, then? 

It can’t be the same. It’s just that Derek is this great guy who clearly doesn’t see himself as a great guy. Which Stiles does. Because he’s annoying and brooding and vague, but he’s also smart and cunning and compassionate and self-sacrificing. He has the capacity to crush bone and inflict pain but he can also be infinitely gentle. They have several house plants in the loft. Derek _gardens._

For some reason thinking about Derek tending to the house plants makes Stiles’ chest hurt. And the fact that Derek doesn’t see himself that way makes his chest doubly hurt. Everything about this is making his head hurt. Sure, Derek is obviously attractive, and objectively Stiles would be very down to hit that, but Derek as a person, as he knows him? It doesn’t compute. 

Stiles used to see Derek as a threat and a nuisance. He’s come to see him as pack, as a friend and a confidant. But he’s never once seen Derek in a romantic light before (the first few seconds he knew Derek, in between noticing him and hearing the words “private property” where he thought, _damn_ , do not count). 

In order to keep himself from spiraling into a hurricane of confusion and frustration, Stiles decides to just ignore the whole thing. If he doesn’t think about it then he won’t have to deal with it, right? 

Because this is Stiles’ life, it doesn’t work out that way. 

 

The next time Stiles sees Derek is a few days later, a Friday after school. He’s not nervous, of course, because why would he be? Nothing whatsoever has changed. At all. 

When he pulls up to the worksite he takes a few deep breaths, not because he needs to calm down, there just must suddenly be less air in the car. Stiles takes two steps toward what is actually starting to look like a house, sees that Derek has decided to work without his shirt on today, and has to resist the urge to get right back in the car. 

Cora pops right up next to him and promptly scares the shit out of him. “You need a bell.” Stiles grabs the book he dropped and looks back at her, eyes narrowed. Cora just smiles sweetly at him. “Homework today?” 

“Not necessarily. I brought a book, but if you need me I can help out.” The book isn’t for school, just something he’s been meaning to read, but at this point he doubts his ability to concentrate.

“Good, because I have a project.” 

 

The two end up with smocks and masks, painting the sheet metal that will cover the roof. It’s a nice sort of minty beige green color, and Cora explains the outside of the house will be painted a light brown. The work demands enough attention to keep his eyes (mostly) away from shirtless Derek, who is finishing the internal plumbing lines around the wall frames. 

He and Cora get a considerable amount of painting done before the end of the day. Derek passes behind them just as they’re taking their masks off and Cora wolf whistles at him. Stiles is afraid to look back, he can already feel his cheeks heat anyway, but he sees a towel fly over his shoulder and Cora catches it out of the air. 

After they’re all cleaned up Derek comes back over to them, thankfully with a shirt this time. “You want us to meet you back at yours?” 

For whatever reason, in that moment, Stiles’ nerves dissipate. He smiles easily at Derek and agrees. His heart rate remains steady, his palms are dry. It’s not that he forgets about this whole feelings mess, but it just settles in a place inside of him. Somewhere subconsciously his brain is telling him not to worry about it, and Stiles is infinitely grateful. If he were suddenly unable to be around Derek comfortably for any reason he’s not sure what he would do. 

When he gets to his house he gets straight in to the shower. Somehow there are flecks of paint on his hands even though he was wearing gloves, and he’s got sawdust in his hair. Apparently Derek and Cora arrive and let themselves in while he’s still in the shower, because when he comes down to the kitchen still toweling his hair they’re both seated at the kitchen table. 

Stiles doesn’t think too much about it, just walks past them to put his towel in the laundry basket, but when he reenters the room he pauses. Derek turns in his chair and smiles at him, and Stiles’ nerves rush back to him; he had left his guitar case on the table after practicing the night before. Right in front of where Derek and Cora are now sitting and staring back at him with evil smiles on their evil faces. 

Stiles’ eyes flash around the kitchen and he wonders what the quickest possible way to sprain his wrist is. Maybe that’s not good enough and he’ll have to break a few fingers. When he looks back at the table, though, Cora’s wearing her puppy eyes (which can totally rival Scott’s, and it’s not fair at all) and Derek has his eyebrows bunched up and his bunny teeth are sticking out. “I hate you both,” Stiles concedes, “I hope you know that.” 

When he approaches the table, slowly, Derek pats him hard on the arm. Their smiles have returned, sensing their victory. “You love us.” Cora smiles sweetly at him and all he can do is huff at her. 

“You’re feeding me first.” 

 

Stiles stuffs himself with Pad Thai and pot stickers. A tiny part of his brain thinks that if he eats until he pukes maybe he won’t have to go through with playing for Derek and Cora, but in the end he decides it’s not worth it. 

It’s not so much that Stiles is nervous that he’s going to mess up. He has the song mostly down, and he’s good under pressure. But now his choice of song is making him feel awkward, especially playing it for Derek, now that he’s got whatever it is that’s going on in his mind because of the man. 

He puts it off for as long as he can but a while after they’ve finished their meal, on some que that Stiles doesn’t catch, Derek and Cora both look at him expectantly, Cora with a smile that spells out their intent. Accepting his fate, Stiles sighs and gets up to fetch the guitar, to which Cora starts clapping. 

“Okay, don’t forget I just started doing this, and I’m definitely not a singer.” Stiles ends up at the head of the table with his chair pulled out to allow for the guitar and Derek and Cora on his immediate sides. “I’m probably going to mess up at least 10 times.” 

Cora rolls her eyes at him and motions for him to continue. Derek is smiling very softly and reaches over the table to smack his sister. “No judgement.” 

Of course all that does is make Stiles more nervous, but he takes a few deep breaths and decides to just go for it. He places his fingers in position for the first note and begins playing.

Cora and Derek go still as he gets through the opening chords, but Stiles isn’t paying too much attention to them; he’s fixating on his right hand, getting in to a rhythm with the plucking. He clears his throat a little bit before he sings the first verse. 

_“Love of mine, someday you will die._  
 _But I’ll be close behind; I’ll follow you into the dark._  
 _No blinding light, or tunnels to gates of white,_  
 _Just our hands clasped so tight, waiting for the hint of a spark._

_If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied,_   
_Illuminate the ‘no’s on their vacancy signs,_   
_If there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks_   
_Then I’ll follow you into the dark.”_

Stiles chances a look up at Derek, confident enough that he’s got a rhythm, and almost messes up because of the look of concentration on Derek’s face. Once they’ve met eyes it’s like he can’t look away, he’s totally entranced.

 _“Catholic school, as viscous as Roman rule._  
 _I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black._  
 _I held my tongue as she told me,_  
 _‘Son, fear is the heart of love.’_   
_And I never went back.”_

Breaking free of Derek’s gaze, Stiles looks to Cora, and the encouraging smile on her face is contagious. His cheeks redden a little, and he concentrates back on his guitar for the chorus. When he gets to the third verse he tries to keep himself from looking at Derek, making the situation more awkward and intimate than it needs to be, but he can’t help it. 

_“You and me, we’ve seen everything to see,_  
 _From Bangkok to Calgary, and the soles of our shoes_   
_Are all worn down. The time for sleep is now._   
_But it’s nothing to cry about, because we’ll hold each other soon_  
 _In the blackest of rooms.”_

Derek’s face has taken a new expression, something Stiles can’t really read, and when Stiles glances back to Cora she’s not looking at him any more, but eyeing her brother across the table. By the time he gets to the end of the last chorus, though, her attention is focused back on him. 

Stiles finishes the song and stares down for a while longer, but the silence doesn’t last. “Stiles that was so good!” Cora is practically yelling and she gets out of her chair to hug him, without even letting him set the guitar down first. 

“Thanks,” he tells Cora, and as he looks over her shoulder to gage Derek’s reaction, the man is staring at the table with a faraway look in his eyes. 

She releases Stiles to look back at her brother. “Right, Derek?” 

“Yeah,” Derek finally replies, “it was great.” He sounds sincere, but there’s something else there, too. Stiles thinks that Cora also picks up on it but neither of them bring it up. All of a sudden, Derek gets up out of his chair, points to the stairs, and pauses for a second. “I’m going to -- I’ll be right back.” He heads up the stairs and Stiles hears the bathroom door close a moment later. 

Cora sits back down and raises her eyebrows. “What on earth have you done to poor Mr. Darcy?” 

Completing the quote almost by instinct, Stiles replies, “I have no idea.” 

The two sit in silence for a moment while Stiles contemplates how deep her reference actually goes, and if she was insinuating something about Derek. Eventually, Cora breaks his train of thought, smiles at him, and asks, “You wanna play Mario Kart?” 

“Yes, please.” Stiles remembers in that moment how much he really does love Cora. They move to the couch and set the system up, and by the time they’re selecting their characters and carts, Derek descends the stairs. Stiles tosses him the controller they’d set out for him. Derek seems to have gotten over whatever was affecting him before, and immediately complains that Cora has taken Baby Bowser. 

“You snooze, you lose, big brother.” 

As per usual, Stiles wins most of the races. Cora hits both him and Derek with a blue shell as they’re going off a jump, but that one doesn’t count, because that’s totally cheating. Once they start to play on Baby Park, though, it’s mostly up to chance. 

At first Stiles is a little distracted trying to figure out what was up with Derek. It could have been nothing but the way Cora reacted makes him think that’s he’s not making it up. He tries to forget it for the time being, and if either of the two notice they don’t bring it up. 

Eventually they decide it’s getting late and they should head back to the loft. Stiles sees them to the front door. Cora heads out first, but Derek pauses before stepping outside. “I’m sorry if I… The song really was good.” He’s wearing that emotionally constipated look on his face, one that Stiles hasn’t seen in a while. 

“It’s okay, man, and thanks.” Having Derek admit to and apologize for acting strange doesn’t make Stiles feel any less confused about the situation, but he appreciates the effort. “I’ll see you tomorrow, around 5?” They have their pack meetings on Saturdays, and Stiles usually shows up early if it’s at the loft, to help get food there and ready for the eventual swarm of hungry pack mates. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you then.” An easy smile replaces the pinched look on Derek’s face, and Stiles can feel himself relaxing at the same time. Stiles has always been someone who was heavily influenced by the emotional mood around him, but it seems like Derek has an amplified effect on him. Derek steps out and walks up to the car, and Stiles has to stop himself from standing on the porch and waving like a total dork.


	18. Chapter 18

The nightmares get worse. 

Not that they had really gotten better, but in addition to the terrifyingly realistic and vivid narratives, he starts to experience very vague dreams, shrouded in mist. They’re less like dreams and more like he’s having a panic attack while he’s sleeping. The first time it happens he calls Derek after he wakes up and it takes him a full minute to catch his breath enough to actually speak. 

Sometimes instead of calling Derek he can text Scott, who stays up way too late now a days anyway, but eventually he stops letting himself do either. He starts to feel again like a burden on his friends and pack. 

Though his nights have descended into hell, Stiles’ days are only getting better. They’ve made incredible progress on the house, estimating it will be done and fully furnished by mid-July. He’s been spending a lot of time with Lydia, half of the time actually studying, and the other half of the time watching Netflix and relaxing. Her banshee powers are escalating and though Deaton is helping as much as his cryptic nature will let him, she seems to need the silence and relaxation in almost the same way Stiles does. 

Sometimes Stiles and Lydia are also joined by Scott. The bond that the two of them share is something that Stiles never really anticipated, but that absolutely melts his heart. The pack feels like a full unit, but every single member is so intertwined with every other, like a web of support and family. 

This isn’t without its consequences for Stiles, though. His dreams seem to target different people every night, seemingly according to who he was with that day. Increasingly featured are Derek and Cora, which doesn’t help Stiles’ resolve to not bug his friends in the middle of the night. Even the times where he feels genuinely worried for their safety when he wakes, Stiles reasons with himself that if anything truly happened to any one of them, he would feel it. 

So he goes on suffering in silence. As long as he can see his friends the next day, it’s worth it to him. And things go on as normal. He learns new songs with his father, he works on the house and eats too much food and watches bad TV with Cora and Derek, he plays video games with Scott and sometimes Kira, and he studies with Lydia. He doesn’t go out of his way to hang out with Isaac, and though they’ve gotten over most of their bickering, they still don’t have that much in common with one another. The times that Stiles does see Isaac, it’s because he’s at the loft. 

And then something super weird happens. 

On an otherwise totally normal Tuesday, Stiles is sitting with everyone at lunch, and in the middle of Kira telling a story that Stiles honestly isn’t paying that much attention to, someone taps him on the shoulder. He turns around to see a girl, a pretty cute girl, smiling shyly at him. Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever seen this girl, but he smiles back at her. 

“Hi.” Her smile falters a little and she frowns at herself. “I don’t think we’ve ever talked before but I’m in your history class.” 

“Oh!” The image comes back to him of her sitting in the back corner, but he still can’t come up with her name. “Right. Hi.”

“It’s Catherine.” She doesn’t sound too irritated about having to remind him of her name, which means she either has incredible patience or is used to not being noticed. Stiles can relate. 

“Hey, Catherine.” There are a few seconds of silence where they’re just smiling at each other before Stiles realizes he still doesn’t know why she’s there. “So, what’s up?”   
“Oh, god, right, sorry.” Catherine chuckles a little at herself. “I’ve had a lot of Adderall today.” Her smile disappears and she frowns. “I didn’t need to tell you that.” 

Stiles can’t help his little laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ve been there.” He notices that his table has gone totally silent but he doesn’t turn back to look at them. 

“So,” Catherine starts again. “I’m sure you know about the whole end of the year party thing.” BHHS throws a party (that is really a dance but nobody calls it a dance) that’s supposed to be for the graduating seniors but everybody is invited and most of the upperclassmen end up going. Stiles didn’t go last year, mostly because everything with Jackson was still wrapping itself up and nobody really had time for stuff like that. 

Stiles nods affirmatively, and Catherine takes a breath before she continues. “Well I was just wondering if you were planning on going, or if you wanted to go together.” 

He doesn’t really know what he was expecting her to say, but that was definitely not it. Stiles’ mind goes completely blank for a minute, and the silence is almost painful. He comes to his senses and realizes how rude he’s being by just staring at her, her face starting to fall. 

At the same time, he has no idea how he’s going to respond, so he says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Oh, actually, I’m already kind of going with someone.” 

“Oh, wow, I’m sorry-“ Catherine is back to frowning at herself, and Stiles stops her. 

“It’s cool. You didn’t know. But hey, I’ll see you there?” 

“Totally.” She leaves the table with a small smile, and Stiles turns back around to find all of his friends staring at him. 

“That was a lie.” To Stiles’ surprise, Kira is the first person to speak. “You don’t have a date.” 

“No,” Stiles relents, “but I didn’t know what else to say, I panicked.” It’s not entirely true, but he doesn’t have a better explanation for why he did it. 

“She seemed nice.” Scott is frowning at him, not in a judgmental way, but like he’s confused. 

Lydia has her eyes narrowed. “It was brave of her to come up and ask you like that.” 

Stiles starts to feel a little defensive. “Why is it such a big deal to you guys? I just didn’t want to say yes, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.” Now, why Stiles didn’t want to say yes, he’s not entirely sure. She seemed like someone he could get along well with, someone he could relate to. She was definitely pretty, in an understated kind of way. There just wasn’t anything special there. 

He gets a couple of raised eyebrows but the pack backs off with the questioning, though he gets a few looks from Lydia throughout the day. Stiles tries to push the subject to the back of his mind and just forget about it, but it becomes increasingly unlikely, leading up to the pack meeting that weekend. 

Isaac hadn’t said anything or even really reacted when it had happened, so of course he’s the one who decides to bring it up. They’re at the loft, and Scott is explaining the whole party thing to Cora. 

“So it’s like a dance then.” Cora seems slightly intrigued, but Derek has headphones in and is seated a little off from the rest of the group.

“Basically, except it’s less formal and it’s not at the school, it’s usually at a bowling alley or somewhere like that. It kind of replaces grad night because BHHS doesn’t do one. You don’t have to have a date but some people do.” At this point Scott starts making his gooey eyes at Kira and even though she doesn’t notice right away it’s still gross. 

Isaac picks this moment to throw in his two cents. “I can’t believe that girl asked you out, Stiles.” The asshole isn’t even looking at him, just staring up at the ceiling, but Stiles can feel his cheeks heat up. 

Cora starts making smoochy noises at him, and Scott and Isaac crack up. “Okay, okay,” Stiles says. “Ha ha, very funny.” 

“Well,” Cora asks, “did you say yes?” 

“No, I ah, sort of told her I was going with someone else.” Stiles knows if he doesn’t say it now someone else will, so he owns up to it. 

Cora’s disapproving look makes him uncomfortable, and he busies himself with his water bottle. It turns out to be the worst time ever to take a drink of water, because the next thing out of Cora’s mouth is:

“Well, maybe Derek will go with you, if you ask nicely.”

Stiles immediately chokes on his drink, and everyone else breaks out into hysterical laughter. Derek, who hadn’t been paying attention at all before now, pulls out his headphones and says, “What?” 

This just sets everyone off again, and Stiles chucks his bottle at Cora, who of course catches it with ease. Cora promises that she’ll explain it to Derek later, and Stiles tries to command the blush out of his face. The pack settles down and they start to do what they were originally supposed to be doing; studying for upcoming finals. 

When Stiles gets home that night, instead of wondering why Cora even brought Derek in to it, and why the idea of a date with Derek was so embarrassing to him in the first place, he practices the newest song he’s learning on his guitar and promptly passes out at midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a short chapter and it's been a while since I updated but things got pretty busy for a time there, midterms and halloween season at a drug store, but there is definitely more to come!


	19. Chapter 19

On a conscious level, Stiles only thinks about Derek in totally normal, run of the mill, werewolf-pack-mate kinds of ways. By early June the exterior of the house is complete and all there is left to do is paint and furnish it. Because of this, the time Stiles spends with the Hale siblings shifts from hard work on the house to screwing around inside the mostly empty shell, paint fights, and eventually more time in the loft than at the property. 

The next pack meeting that was supposed to take place at the loft happens inside the house instead. Everyone brings blankets and cushions and Kira brings a projector. They spend the majority of the night cuddled up in what will eventually be the living room watching movies and eating junk food. 

Stiles doesn’t have those moments where his and Derek’s eyes meet across the room and he blushes. He doesn’t stick his hand in the popcorn the same time Derek does and shiver. They mostly bicker and throw things at each other. The air around them when they’re alone remains charged, and sometimes he still feels that unfinished business, a silence he wants to fill, but Sties reasons that whatever he is experiencing (or rather not experiencing and suppressing) obviously can’t be feelings or a crush or whatever other things his brain initially wanted to call it. Stiles’ only personal experiences there were Lydia and Danny for a brief period, and with Derek it doesn’t feel even remotely the same. 

So Stiles goes on ignoring it. 

He does in fact have more important things to occupy his mind, like the fact that he’s two weeks away from finals and the end of his junior year. He increases his and Lydia’s study sessions and this sometimes encompasses the other members of the pack. Sometimes Kira comes along for help in English, or Scott for math. Isaac tags along about half the time that Scott does, though he’s somehow doing totally fine in all of his classes. 

It’s a day that Scott and Lydia are with him, and they’re spread out on the kitchen table. About an hour in the Sheriff arrives home from work, and stumbles in to the kitchen to find several teenagers have taken it over. 

They engage in some small talk for a while, the Sheriff assuring both Lydia and Scott that he can accommodate them for dinner if they would like. “Believe me, Scott, your appetite was incredible before you were a werewolf.” Stiles laughs at the way the word sounds coming out of his father, after so long having to hide it. 

The sheriff turns to leave, but stops himself. “Oh, Stiles, how’s the song coming?” This time he’d needed more help to learn his latest conquest because it had to be adapted to just one guitar. It had been hard but actually a lot more fun to arrange it with his father than just to learn it. 

“Good, I’ve gotten the hang of it I think.” 

His father gets that sappy look in his eyes that means he’s proud but he doesn’t want to say it, so what he does say is, “great, well I’ll be in my office,” before carrying a stack of paperwork down the hall and closing the door. 

Stiles turns around to find two sets of curious eyes on him. After a few seconds of silence he gives in and explains why he had to adapt the song. 

Scott looks like he’s still curious but doesn’t want to push it and he goes back to the paper in front of him, but Lydia is openly eyeing him, and looking like she definitely wants to push it. “Cora told me you were pretty good.” 

This catches Scott’s attention again. “You played for Cora?” 

“Yeah, and Derek.” Scott seems thoughtful at this revelation, but doesn’t respond. 

It isn’t silent for much longer, though. “This must be a good song, if you’re putting more effort in to learning it.” This time Lydia is feigning innocence in her eyes. 

“Yeah, what song is it?” Scott asks, and Stiles narrows his eyes at Lydia. He thinks he’s starting to understand her plan. 

“Uh, it’s actually Lime Street.” There’s no way Lydia could have known the significance that the song would have to Scott, as she shows zero recognition at the name. Scott, however, practically lights up. Stiles smiles back at his friend, remembering listening to Life’s Not Out to Get You together right after it came out. 

“No way, that’s awesome!” 

“Never heard of it.” Lydia spins her pen around in her hand, looking down at her paper. 

Scott takes the bait. “It’s a great song. That whole album is great.” He’s got the whole excited puppy thing going on that’s only going to get worse over time. 

“Well,” Lydia starts, “if it’s such a good song—“ 

Stiles stands up without a word and grabs his guitar from the living room. When he reenters the kitchen Scott is beaming at him and Lydia has the satisfied smirk of someone who has way too much power over him. Motioning them to stand up he walks up the stairs and to his room, preferring to play there. 

The two follow him inside and Scott shuts the door without being told to. Stiles takes the desk chair and spins it toward where Lydia and Scott are perched together on his bed. Taking a moment to find a pick, Stiles takes a deep breath and gets himself in to position. 

“Okay, before I start, just a disclaimer, I haven’t totally mastered this song yet and I’m definitely not a singer.” Scott and Lydia smile at him encouragingly and Stiles begins in earnest. 

He manages not to screw up the opening chords, and moves on to the first verse, trying to hold back the urge to clear his throat. 

_“It’s been a few days since I saw you last,_  
_And there’s a few things that I have to ask._  
_So, the first is, do I hold you back?_  
_Did I fuck up too many times?_  
_You found the bad I knew you’d find.”_

Stiles feels in rhythm enough to glance up at his two person audience. Lydia is studying him with some kind of intensity, but Scott just looks impressed. It boosts his confidence the slightest bit. 

_“Just need some time and space,_  
_We’ve fallen out of place_  
_But I pray to god we don’t lose connection._  
_Just need to see you smile,_  
_Or maybe stay a while_  
_Before we lose all sense of direction._

_Is it too late to say, too late to say_  
_That I’m sorry for the things I do?_  
_I’m missing you like shit today_  
_And as the world spins on its’ axis_  
_It seems life has brought me back here to say_  
_Oh, God, not this again.”_

Stiles starts to get really in to the song at this point. It’s a little different to practice something over and over again by himself or with his father, than it is to play it in front of other people. It brings Stiles into this sort of hyper awareness, and it’s almost like he’s listening to the song for the first time, through himself. 

_“I haven’t seen you smile this whole time_  
_It bums me out and makes me wonder why I can’t do right._  
_And I’m trying my best, I promise._  
_I want this as long as you want it._

_You asked me where we could meet,_  
_I found you there on Lime Street._  
_One cig left in the packet, stood shy in your dad’s jacket._  
_A moment I’ll always keep, oh take me back to Lime Street._  
_I swear to God you saved me, I swear to God you saved me.”_

Something about that last line almost makes Stiles lose his breath. He recovers quickly enough to finish the last chorus. By the last repetition of _“I swear to God you saved me,”_ he realizes he’s practically yelling. When he’s done, he feels a little winded, like something profound has just happened and he has no idea what it was. 

Finally he looks to Scott and Lydia. Both look utterly speechless, but the silence is broken by Lydia’s accusation of, “Who is it?” 

Stiles is the speechless one this time. After a few more seconds of silence, Lydia seems slightly fed up. “Come on, you’re obviously in to someone. Who is it?” 

He looks to Scott for help, but the boy just shrugs at him. “That was way too passionate for you not to be thinking about someone.” 

“Okay,” Stiles starts, putting down the guitar. “I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Lydia isn’t convinced. “Show me your iTunes history.” 

“What?” 

“Open your laptop and show me your iTunes history.” She crosses her arms defiantly.

“I don’t see what this is going to prove.” Grabbing his laptop, he reluctantly signs in and pulls up iTunes. Both Lydia and Scott get up and crowd his shoulders to see the screen. 

Stiles blanches slightly at the computer. Lydia tisks at him and Scott straightens out and whistles. “Okay, Kali Ma is still a new song, I’ll give you that one, but… Motion City Soundtrack? Lily Allen? Michael Buble?” Scott’s voice increases in pitch as he goes on, and Stiles shuts the computer. 

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Lydia is unamused.

“What was the last movie you watched?” 

Stiles hesitates before answering, and Lydia’s eyebrows shoot up. He scratches his ear and mumbles the title, but Lydia does not back down, clearing her throat and motioning him to speak up. 

“The Wedding Singer.” Scott straight up laughs, and Lydia throws her arms up in a gesture that says _I’m surrounded by idiots_. “Okay, I know how that sounds, but I _swear to God_ I’m not—“ 

And that’s when it hits him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, thanks so much to everyone who's been encouraging me to continue with this!
> 
> The song is off of Neck Deep's new album, and for some reason it struck me a lot when I first heard it. Also Kali Ma, they're both really good Sterek songs!!
> 
> I do have a reference for Stiles' arrangement of the song; I want to warn you though, the lyrics in the video aren't accurate and the way this guy sings is nothing like how I imagine Stiles would, it's really just for the guitar: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=25rWNPeogb0
> 
> Expect more soon! Sorry for the cliff hanger... ;)


	20. Chapter 20

“Shit.” 

Shit, shit shit. “I knew it.” Lydia’s words are drowned out in his mind. 

Stiles rises from the chair and collapses face first on to his bed. “It can’t be that bad,” Scott is saying from his left side, but Stiles is not listening, because his life is over. 

“My life is over.” 

“Oh, don’t be such a drama queen.” Lydia smacks his ankle from his other side, and Stiles feels the bed dip where Scott is sitting down. 

“No,” Stiles starts, raising up on his elbows, “you don’t understand. This is bad. And I didn’t even know it existed!” He narrows his eyes at Lydia, still standing. “This is your fault. I could have gone on in ignorance but you had to do your whole knowing me too well thing.” 

“Maybe if you told us who it was, we could help you.” Lydia’s face is expectant, but Stiles just drops his head back down to the mattress. 

Because it might actually be impossible to say the words out loud. He’s having a hard enough time just thinking them. They don’t make any sense. 

Stiles... _likes_ Derek. Stiles is _into_ Derek. In a non bro kind of way. This is bad. 

Lydia brings Stiles back to reality by clearing her throat. “You don’t have to tell us.” Scott’s comment seems more directed toward Lydia than Stiles. The problem is that Stiles can’t decide which is worse; having people know about this, or having to keep it completely to himself. 

Stiles gets frustrated and starts grumbling into his bedspread. “Stupid dumb grumbly awkward ripped dumb brooding chiseled werewolf…” 

Stiles gets up from the bed and sits back in the desk chair. Looking back to his friends he notices the look on Scott’s face, a mix between amused and confused. Lydia sees it too, and questions, “What?” To be fair, it was moderately specific grumbling.

Scott is hesitant to speak, but he does. “You’re not saying…” he doesn’t finish his sentience however, like he wants Stiles to say it and confirm his suspicion. 

After probably the biggest sigh of his life, head in his hands, Stiles finally speaks. “Yes, okay, it’s… It’s Derek.” 

For the first time ever, Stiles seems to have surprised Lydia. The calculating look leaves her face and is slackens into a careful nothing. “Oh. Oh.” 

“Yeah. You see my point now.” Scott look about a second away from losing it. “And laughing is not helpful, dude.” 

“No, no, I swear,” Scott starts, putting up his hands defensively. “I’m not laughing at you. I just didn’t expect… Derek. Really? Does he know?”

“No, Scott, I didn’t even know until two minutes ago!” Stiles pauses for a moment, thinking back to the day he played for Derek and Cora. Maybe he does know, and that’s why he was acting weird? “Oh God, maybe he does know.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he was as oblivious as you.” Lydia has taken her seat back on the bed. 

“Speaking of people knowing, this does not leave this room.” Stiles stares at Scott in particular. “Not even Kira.” 

Scott is surprisingly understanding. “Okay, if you say so.” Stiles puts his head back into his hands. “Can I just ask one question, though?” Peeking between his fingers, Stiles nods at the alpha. “Why?” 

“I don’t know.” Giving himself a minute to come up with another answer, Stiles closes his eyes, and lets himself think about it. The mental dam he put up when he first noticed these feelings breaks down and it all comes flooding in. “I meant what I said when Derek and Cora asked to be pack officially; I don’t think I really knew who Derek was until a few months ago. Don’t get me wrong, he’s still kind of an asshole, but I’m also kind of an asshole.”

Scott scoffs a little bit, but Stiles isn’t finished. “He’s not always grumpy and antisocial and aggressive. He can be kind and gentle. And yeah, he gets carried away pretty easily, but it’s just because he cares. If you think about it, for all the horrible and crazy shit that’s happened to him, I’m surprised he still has the capacity to care for anything.” 

When he’s done with his speech Lydia is back to looking at him blankly. Scott is totally beaming. “Dude, you’re so gone.” 

“Yeah, whatever, this is making my head hurt. Can we go back downstairs and study now?” 

It’s Lydia’s turn to scoff. “Yes, for now, but this conversation is not over.” The twinkle in her eye reinforces the statement. Stiles heaves another sigh before leading the way back to the kitchen table. It’s saying something that he would rather reread textbook chapters right now than talk or think about Derek, but he’ll have plenty of time for that later when he’s trying to fall asleep. 

 

Which is, of course, exactly what happens.

For a while now Stiles had been having little tiny thoughts, voices in the back of his head saying hey! Look at this! And to be honest they scared the shit out of him, so he pushed them off to the side and ignored them, hoping that they would just go away. But as it turns out they weren’t the kinds of feelings one can just ignore. 

As Stiles lays awake that night he starts to fear that what he told Lydia and Scott wasn’t true. That the situation is even more catastrophic that he originally thought. Because the more time he spends thinking about it, the more he feels that he doesn’t just like Derek. This isn’t a fleeting thing. 

Stiles thinks he might actually love him. And that, right there, is scarier than anything he’s ever experienced in his life. Not just because he has no inkling that Derek is ever going to reciprocate those feelings, for a number of reasons, but because even if Derek did, Stiles would find some way to fuck it up. 

It’s a miracle that Stiles actually falls asleep at all, but when he does it’s sometime after midnight. His sleep is dreamless, but not very restful, at least until it’s interrupted. 

A noise wakes him up, almost like a thump, but he can’t be sure if it actually happened or it was just a dream. Opening his eyes he surveys the room, notices a figure standing in front of the open window, and proceeds to squawk and almost jump out of the bed in surprise. 

The figure moves to the opposite wall and flips the light switch, and after Stiles gets over his temporary blindness, is revealed to be a wet and cold looking Derek. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… I didn’t think.” Stiles notices Derek’s face is pretty red, probably from the cold outside. 

“Don’t be, are you okay?” The last time Derek came through Stiles’ window at night he was horribly wounded, so Stiles gets out of bed quickly and gives Derek a once over. Other than almost freezing off the hand Stiles puts on Derek’s arm, the man seems fine. 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine.” Derek’s eyes are trained on where Stiles’ hand is in contact with his arm, and Stiles feels a little self-conscious about it, but doesn’t let go. The two remain silent with nothing other than the occasional drop from Derek’s hair hitting the floor. 

Stiles moves his hand to Derek’s shoulder for a second, causing Derek to raise his gaze back to Stiles’ eyes. The look Derek gives Stiles is troubled. “I’ll be right back.” The closet right outside Stiles’ room is where they keep the extra towels so it takes about two seconds for him to grab a couple and move back in to the room. 

Stiles gets the impression that Derek doesn’t really want to talk about why he’s there, and when he brings the towels back he grabs a pair of sweats and sets them on the bed. Derek stands still while Stiles unfolds one of the towels and puts it on Derek’s head, drying his hair. 

If this were two years ago and Lydia Martin showed up dripping and cold Stiles would probably have shit himself. With Derek, everything is different. The intimacy of the situation doesn’t make Stiles nervous or weird, he’s not blushing and babbling like he usually would. He feels calm. 

Suddenly Derek reaches up and takes hold of Stiles’ wrist, pausing him and bringing him out of his mind. Their eyes meet and tension swells up in Stiles, and he feels like he’s holding his breath. “I can take it from here,” Derek says, voice husky, and it’s almost like Stiles is hearing it for the first time. Stiles drops his hand from the towel. 

“Okay.” Stiles’ own voice is surprisingly even, considering Derek’s voice leaves him feeling a little like jello. “I’ll just…” To give Derek some privacy he turns around and sits on the bed, facing the wall. He hears Derek grab the towel and the sweatpants, shuck the wet clothes off, and put on the pants. 

Derek walks around the side of the bed and sits down facing Stiles but looking down at his hands. He’s shirtless, and his hair is doing that half wet half fluffy thing, but he’s sitting curled up on Stiles’ bed at two in the morning and he is freezing cold. The instinct flares up in Stiles to protect what is in front of him, no matter what. 

Again, Stiles doesn’t want to push Derek to talk, so he doesn’t say anything as they sit together, letting Derek acclimate. Patience has never been a special skill of Stiles’ but he’s learning a lot about himself tonight. 

Derek shifts his posture the slightest bit, then looks up and meets Stiles’ eyes. “How do you tell when you’re dreaming?” 

The question shoots ice through Stiles’ veins. But this isn’t about him, so he composes himself. “Well, there are a few different ways. You can’t read in dreams. Sometimes you have extra fingers. Light switches don’t work.”

Gazing back at his hands again, Derek frowns. “I had a dream, but it was almost… too vivid. Too real. It was like I could feel myself losing the pack.” The word pack brings Derek’s eyes back to Stiles. “Kate was still alive.” 

The ice in Stiles’ blood turns to heat. He leans forward and takes Derek’s hands in his own. “It wasn’t real. _This_ is real.” Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand. “She will never hurt anyone, ever again. And you’re not going to lose us.” 

Derek’s hands are still cold in Stiles’ but they’re heating up quickly. The look of intensity and concentration in Derek’s eyes is almost too much for Stiles to handle, the epiphany striking him once again, but this time it seems so obvious to him. Of course he loves Derek. Nothing else makes sense.

Suddenly Derek drops his head down. “I’m sorry for waking you up and showing up here, I just didn’t know where else to go.” 

“No, don’t apologize.” Stiles hates to know that Derek ever feels like a burden. “Now c’mon, you’re in my spot.” Stiles tugs a little at Derek’s hands, and he gets the smallest of playful smiles in return. Derek gets up from the bed and walks around to the other side, switching off the light. Stiles rolls over to his side of the bed, because at this point he thinks of his bed in two sides, and Derek gets under the duvet. 

In the dark everything seems more surreal. Like lying next to Derek now is happening in some parallel universe instead of the real one, and because of that his actions don’t have consequences. Stiles has never had exceptional impulse control. It’s this that drives him to reach out to Derek, to place his fingertips on Derek’s cheekbone, because maybe all the man needs is a little bit more gentleness in his life. 

Contact of Stiles’ fingertips elicits a sigh from Derek, and Stiles’ hand feels like a live wire. Over time he can feel Derek relaxing and eventually watches him fall asleep before his eyes. After Derek is out it doesn’t take long before Stiles follows, feeling totally content.


	21. Chapter 21

Stiles wakes up the next morning knowing that he’s alone in his bed. There’s steady light coming in through the window but his eyes are still closed. Last night, or rather early this morning, seems like it could have been a dream. Stiles lets his mind wander back a few hours, dwell in the feeling of Derek’s cold hand in his, the sight of the man falling asleep in front of him. 

His alarm hasn’t gone off so he lets himself slowly drift off back to sleep, right on the edge—

A noise startles him and Stiles jolts back to full consciousness, sitting up on the bed. Derek is sat in Stiles’ desk chair, swiveling slowly, still wearing Stiles’ sweats. “Christ,” Stiles complains, slapping a hand against his chest and collapsing back on the bed for emphasis. “You’re definitely going to give me a heart attack one of these days.” 

“Sorry.” The smile on Derek’s face betrays him, though. So last night wasn’t a dream. Stiles checks his phone on the nightstand for the time, and turns his alarm off. Despite the lack of sleep he feels well rested. “Your dad left a while ago.”

Stiles nods to himself and starts to stretch, acclimating to the idea that he actually has to get up and get ready for school. The sunlight outside is promising, though, and when Stiles sits up on the bed he notices Derek staring out the window, his cheeks slightly red. 

The light coming in to the window is accentuating the light olive tone to Derek’s skin, his position highlighting his cheekbones and throwing left half of his face into shadow. For longer than Stiles would like to admit he just stares, feeling a little lost in the sight, but Derek turns to him and those distressingly beautiful eyes meet his. Snapping out of his brief trance, Stiles remembers the time. “Breakfast?” 

 

It was still a little earlier than Stiles would usually wake up for school so they had the time to eat more than Stiles’ usual pop-tart breakfast. After they toss Derek’s still wet clothing into the dryer, they set out to do just that. As it turns out, Derek makes his eggs just the way Stiles does; slightly undercooked with just a little bit of cheese on top. Derek also likes his toast burnt, which is gross. 

The surreal feeling of the night before overtakes Stiles once more as he watches Derek move around in his kitchen. Part of it has to do with the fact that he’s still shirtless and wearing Stiles’ pants, but Stiles thinks the other part of it is how domestic the whole situation seems. Even the idea of Derek spending the night, the routine it seems they’ve formed only after it happening a few times, feels strange to him. 

Don’t get him wrong, it’s definitely not a bad thing. Stiles feels the moment of clarity he had last night again. Of course he loves Derek. Because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be sitting in his kitchen right now making breakfast, cracking stupid jokes, and bickering with him, feeling so completely content and _right_. 

When they’re done with breakfast Stiles heads back upstairs to take a shower. He catches himself humming half way through and laughs a little. For how worried and upset Stiles was about the whole ordeal yesterday, he’s feeling a lot more optimistic today. If he can just keep his cool and not make anything weird, he should be fine. 

Walking down the stairs and finding Derek rinsing off their dishes, back in his newly dry clothes, Stiles thinks that if the two of them stay like this, close friends, and never become more, he could handle it. 

The time comes for Stiles to leave for school and the two walk out on the porch together. Stiles belatedly realizes that the Camaro isn’t outside. Derek must have ran here last night, which makes sense considering how wet he was, but the idea bothers Stiles. 

Derek is following Stiles to the Jeep but slowly, like he’s hanging back. “Do you want to ride with me to the school?” He figures it’s a little closer to the loft so Derek won’t have to walk as far. 

“Yeah, sure, thanks.” Derek enters the Jeep only slightly more gracefully than Stiles does. Though they’re basically the same height, Derek takes up way more room in the car, to Stiles’ amusement. 

A while through the drive, Derek asks Stiles about his upcoming finals. “I’m not particularly worried about any one subject,” Stiles explains. “More just in general. I got a little behind after, uh, the winter.” With all of the horrible things that happened because of the Nogitsune Stiles feels a little selfish complaining about his schoolwork, but the reality is that being possessed really put a damper on his performance. Most of his teachers had been understanding about the whole thing, considering he did have a couple of hospital stays under his belt. 

Derek nods as they pull into the school parking lot and Stiles maneuvers into a spot. He turns to face the boy with a small smile. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Stiles lets himself believe it while Derek’s eyes are on him. 

The two exit the Jeep, Derek considerably more graceful this time, and part ways. Stiles can't help but watch Derek jog away with a wave before turning and heading to the school. When he starts walking he notices Scott standing just outside the doors, waiting for him. They only have a few minutes before first period starts so Stiles hurries up to him. 

“Anything to share?” Scott’s got a smirk on his face that can only mean he’s referencing Derek. 

Stiles elbows him in the ribs, even though the effort is futile. “Ha ha.” This was the downside to Scott knowing about his feelings for Derek. “What’s up?” 

“It’s probably nothing.” Stiles really did not like the sound of that. “Isaac was out running the perimeter last night and smelled something weird.”

“Weird like unfamiliar?” He has to fight to keep his voice sounding even. They had been in such a nice little bubble the past few months, so of course it couldn’t last. Scott and his stupid werewolf senses pick up on Stiles’ panic anyway, though. 

A hand comes up to Stiles’ shoulder, and Scott’s expression softens a little. “Like I said, I’m sure it’s nothing. We can talk more at lunch though.” Stiles nods and they separate, heading to their respective classrooms.

Despite Scott’s assurance, though, Stiles is anxious and distracted during his first four periods. He knows that they’ll talk more during lunch, but if something happened while Derek was with him last night, and now he doesn’t know about whatever Isaac smelled, what if he’s vulnerable? 

The time before lunch passes slowly. By the time they’re released from English Stiles sides up to Scott with an expectant look. Scott practically rolls his eyes and leads the way in to the cafeteria. Of course they have to wait for everyone else to get there, but it doesn’t take long. It seems Stiles isn’t the only one a little worried about the whole ordeal. 

Scott gestures to Isaac once everyone is there, and he begins. “I was doing a patrol around the whole perimeter of the town,” which one of the wolves does at least once a week, “and I caught a weird scent out on the southern side of the lake. It didn’t smell like a wolf, but it didn’t smell human either.” 

Stiles can’t help the shiver down his spine. “I called Scott,” Isaac continues, “and I went to the loft looking for Derek, but he wasn’t there.” Both Scott and Isaac look at Stiles then, and it’s clear that Kira can also smell Derek on him. After all, it’s not a huge bed. Not like they were cuddling or anything. Stiles doesn’t offer up any kind of explanation and eventually Isaac relents. “Anyway, Cora, Scott and I decided to wait until morning to do anything about it. That’s it.” 

The table is silent for a few moments. On one hand, even if it is something to worry about, at least they have a warning this time. Eventually Scott breaks the quiet. “It could be nothing. Cora said she would have Derek go to the site today and check it out. We should get together after school though.” 

Stiles volunteers his house for the gathering, not particularly wanting to leave his father alone or out of the loop this time. 

“I guess it was only a matter of time.” Lydia shrugs. “On a more serious note; Kira, do you have a dress for the party yet?” The party being the end of the year not-dance. 

The conversation divulges into planning for said party, and Lydia asks if anyone has invited Cora to go. “Isaac, you could ask her.” Lydia’s smirk clarifies her meaning. 

Strangely, instead of some kind of snarky and/or inappropriate comment, Isaac takes a pretty uncomfortable pause at the suggestion. He recovers and makes a joke about that Derek would kill him, which elicits a laugh from Kira, and it doesn’t seem like anyone else really noticed, except for Scott, eyes cast down to his plate. 

“I’ll ask her, if she really wants to go.” Stiles isn’t sure how much Cora has missed out on, but if he can provide any of those experiences for her, he will. Also, there’s still the whole Catherine situation, he would feel a little guilty for showing up without a date. “Then she’ll know my intentions are pure.” 

“Wow,” Kira places her hand over her heart dramatically, “what a gentleman.” 

Lydia and Stiles laugh, but Scott and Isaac still seem a little distracted. Stiles meets eyes with Isaac across the table and gets a slightly guilty look back. The rest of lunch passes without incident, and they set up the plan for after school; Stiles will swing by the loft with Lydia and take Cora back to his house, while Scott, Isaac, Kira, and Derek meet at the lake to try to pick the scent up again. Now, all there is to do is wait. 

 

As soon as Lydia steps in to the car she turns an expectant gaze toward Stiles. He pretends not to see her as he pulls out of the lot, knowing she’ll speak up eventually. 

It only takes about 45 seconds. “Why did everyone look at you when Isaac mentioned Derek’s absence last night?” 

Damn. Stiles knows that playing stupid is futile, but he also doesn’t want to go in to too much detail about it. Derek’s nightmares and fears aren’t anyone else’s business unless he chooses to share them. “Yeah, okay he was with me.” When Lydia doesn’t respond Stiles glances over at her, and her expression hasn’t changed, like she’s waiting for him to elaborate. “Look, nothing happened, it’s just kinda personal.”

“Does this ‘nothing’ happen often?” As they pass over the northern bridge, Lydia turns her head toward the window so her gaze is no longer boring holes into Stiles. 

Still, Stiles shifts in his seat a little, uncomfortable. “Depends on what your definition of ‘often’ is.” 

Lydia blinks her eyelashes at him in mock innocence. “More than twice?” 

Stiles isn’t sure how to answer that. Technically, Derek has shown up and spent the night three times, but one of them was because he had a crap ton of glass in his back, so he’s not sure that counts. Lydia, however, takes his silence as an admission of guilt, and “hmm”s a little to herself. 

A few minutes pass and they near the block of the loft. “You know,” Lydia finally says, all playfulness and mischief gone from her tone, “the next time you feel sorry for yourself about this whole Derek thing, remember that.” The sincerity in her tone keeps him from huffing or rolling his eyes, but internally, he’s doing both. 

Thankfully Cora is waiting at the entrance to the garage, so Stiles stops for her and uses an empty spot to turn around. 

Lydia clears her throat as they’re heading out of the lot. When Stiles looks to her she tilts her head toward Cora in the back seat, which doesn’t help to clarify. From the back, Cora mutters, “Subtle,” and Stiles can hear the smirk in her tone. 

“Oh,” Stiles says, realizing what she means. “Hey, Cora, do you want to go to the end of the year party with me?” 

“Wow, Stiles, I’m flattered, but are you sure it’s me you want to ask?” She only sounds like she’s half kidding, and Stiles lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“Ha, ha, okay, you know I didn’t mean like that, and the Derek joke was plenty funny the first time.” 

Cora leans forward, between the two front seats, most of the playfulness gone from her voice. “Is it really a joke?” 

The way she says it, Stiles is sure she knows. She has to know. “How! How did you know? I didn’t even know!” Next to him, Lydia looks like she’s struggling to keep herself from laughing. “No laughing, this is not funny!” 

“What did you mean you didn’t know?” Cora’s tone is playful once again. Stiles is not appreciating the mocking, though, and says as much. 

“I am not appreciating the mocking that’s going on here, okay. I just, I don’t know, didn’t realize it.” 

“It’s pretty obvious.” Leaning back in her seat, Cora crosses her arms. 

“I don’t know if I would have guessed it was Derek,” Lydia chimes in, “but I knew there had to be somebody.” 

“Are you kidding?” This gets Cora excited again, leaning back between the seats. “I thought the more obvious one _was_ Derek—“ 

“Can we stop talking about this please?” Stiles pulls in to his driveway, devoid of the cruiser, and parks the car. “It’s never going to go anywhere, and I’m not at the point where I can laugh about it yet, okay?” 

“What do you mean, it’s never going to go anywhere?” An edge appears in Cora’s voice. 

“I mean, Derek’s not going to feel the same way.” A tired sigh escapes Stiles and he moves to get out of the car. Cora doesn’t respond, though, so he turns to look at her, only to see the two girls having what looks like a silent conversation. He represses the urge to roll his eyes for the second time since leaving school and exits the car. “So, do you want to go to the not-dance or not?” Cora softens at the fatigue in his tone and smiles at him. 

“Yeah, it’ll be fun. Thanks.” 

 

If the wait for the rest of the pack is a little tense for Stiles, it’s not his fault. Rationally he doesn’t expect for them to find anything, Derek may not even be able to pick up the scent anymore, but there’s a tiny part of him that stays on high alert until everyone arrives back at his house. 

The three of them are sitting in the living room when Stiles hears the door open, and they all rise at the same time to greet Derek, Isaac, Scott, and Kira. As soon as Derek enters the room Stiles feels himself relax. Scott is right behind him and definitely gives Stiles a look. Stiles tries not to react to make it any more obvious, silently cursing his body for giving him away so easily. Derek gives him a smile, though, seemingly oblivious. 

Attention turns to Derek once they’re settled in the room. “I couldn’t pick anything up,” he admits. “It was too windy this morning.” 

It’s Cora who speaks up first. “So what’s the plan?”

“We can’t ignore it.” Scott is frowning at the floor. Stiles lets himself be happy that Scott is their Alpha, that he can take command of the situation. “We’ll up the patrols, and we’ll try as much as possible not to be alone. Not just the humans.” Scott turns his attention to Isaac. “Does Chris know?” All the weirdness Stiles had noticed between them earlier seems to be gone, at least for the moment. 

“Yeah,” Isaac nods, “I told him when I got home last night. I should call him though, let him know we didn’t find anything.” 

“I should call my dad too.” Stiles had decided this morning he wasn’t going to leave his father out of this one. “He’ll be home tonight, but if anything else weird has happened recently he might know.” 

Derek nods his assent. “Good idea.” A silence falls over the pack, like they’re not quite sure what to do next. Stiles knows that he doesn’t really want anyone to leave, at least not yet, not before his father is home. But he’s not sure how to say it without sounding like he’s afraid. 

“We should stay here, for a while.” It’s Kira who speaks, turning her gaze to each member of the pack individually. A few people, Stiles included, shoot her appreciative glances. It seems everyone was thinking the same thing. 

Isaac walks down the hall to speak to Chris, and Stiles takes that as his queue to step in to the kitchen and call his father. 

Stiles tries to explain in the most assuring manner possible that there is no real threat yet, just a tiny bit of suspicion. The Sheriff seems unconvinced, and tells Stiles not to let Scott or Derek leave before he gets home. He relents he hasn’t noticed anything too out of the ordinary lately. Stiles promises they’ll be here, and tells his dad that if he’s not home when he gets there he’s out getting food. 

After he hangs up with his father, Stiles steps back in to the living room and announces his decision to get take out. Derek stands up immediately, asking “Do you want me to go with you?” Stiles notices Cora smirking at him and glares at her while he replies to her brother. 

“No, my dad wants to talk to you, and I might not be back by the time he gets home.” 

At that moment Isaac comes in to the room and offers to come instead. It may not have been what Stiles expected, but they aren’t supposed to be alone, so it makes sense, and he agrees. Isaac gives a last glace behind him before they walk out the door, back to the room at Scott, and Stiles senses that weirdness between them again. 

When they get in to the Jeep, Stiles wants to bring it up and ask Isaac about it, but he doesn’t want to pry. After all, it’s not like Isaac and him are the closest pair in the pack, but if something is going on he would like to know. He decides to approach it carefully. 

“Hey, Isaac, you know, if there’s something wrong or something you want to talk to someone about, I’m here for you, right?” It’s not a lie, though they’re not super close they’re still pack, and Stiles is glad that he says it, even if he doesn’t have the purest of motives. 

It pulls a smile out of Isaac either way. The boy looks down at his lap and nods. “Yeah, I know.” 

“Good.” Stiles is still deciding how to breach the Scott topic when Isaac continues. 

“And ditto. If you ever want to talk about anything I’m here for you too.” Stiles smiles and looks over to Isaac, now making eye contact. “Like, for example, if you wanted to talk about you and Derek.” 

Stiles has to resist the urge to pull the car over right then and there. “Oh my god.” It’s one thing for Lydia and Scott to have guessed, and Cora is around him and Derek a lot, but Isaac? Of all people, really? “How was literally everyone else aware of this and not me? How is this my life?” 

“We all know you better than you think.” Isaac is unmistakably smirking now, back to his normal snarky self. “And I know Derek pretty well too.” 

Stiles pulls in to the parking lot of Lee’s, a pan Asian restaurant he and his father went to almost three times a month when he was in middle school. The place was still up and running and still had the best honey walnut prawns in Beacon County. 

“Well,” Stiles says, exiting the car and walking up to the door to the restaurant. “If you know Derek so well, then you understand why I am incredibly screwed.” Isaac frowns, but doesn’t have time to reply, as Stiles is giving their giant group to-go order to the hostess. 

They take a seat at the bench near the counter, knowing it’ll take a while to fill the order. “And why do you say you’re so screwed?” Isaac is still frowning, and his voice takes an edge that hadn’t been there minutes before. 

“Because,” Stiles half whispers, dreading anyone overhearing them, “it’s obvious that Derek is never going to feel that way about me.” 

Isaac just looks at him and shakes his head for a while. Stiles huffs, irritated that he even has to repeat this conversation for the second time today, irritated with his whole situation. After a couple minutes of uncomfortable silence, Isaac speaks in a very small voice. “It could be worse, you know.” 

Stiles is too irritated at the moment to ask what he means, but as time passes and they wait for their food, he grows more and more curious. Finally his name is called and he and Isaac carry the mounds of food back out to the Jeep. When they’re in the car and on the road back to the house, Stiles gives in. 

“Okay, I’ll bite. How could it be worse?” 

Isaac is staring out the window, the sun setting and the sky growing darker, and doesn’t answer at first. Just as Stiles is beginning to think he’s being ignored, Isaac speaks. 

“I know you brought this whole thing up for a reason. I know you’ve noticed that something’s been off with… with me and Scott.” Isaac starts fiddling with the hem of his jacket, not making eye contact for a while, but when he does look up Stiles nods for him to continue. “What I’m saying is, _it could be worse._ ” 

Stiles frowns for a moment, not entirely getting what Isaac is insinuating, but then it clicks in his head. Isaac is comparing Stiles’ situation with Derek to his situation with Scott. Which would mean… 

“Shit. You have feelings for Scott.” It comes out as a half-question half-statement. Isaac has gone back to staring out the window again, confirming Stiles’ assumption by not denying it. “Shit.” Stiles doesn’t know what else to say. 

“Yeah.” Isaac sighs, and Stiles recognizes the tired sound of it. “Shit is right.” They pull up to the house, next to the cruiser now parked in the driveway. 

“Does he know?” 

Isaac nods. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but believe me, you have more of a chance with him than you think you do. Definitely more than I do.” 

Isaac is right that Stiles doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t argue with him, not really having the energy to. He only nods before taking his keys from the ignition and grabbing handfuls of take out to bring to his hungry pack mates. 

 

It seems that most of the discussion between the Sheriff, Scott, and Derek had already taking place by the time Stiles and Isaac returned with the food, so they all immediately doled out the portions of seven flavor beef, pad thai, prawns, and cashew chicken accordingly. Stiles’ father ate with them as well, and it felt the closest to a family meal that Stiles had experienced in years, outside of the thanksgivings he and the Sheriff sometimes spent at the McCall house. 

After the meal his father retired to his office, asking Stiles to let him know when the pack eventually dispersed. Most of the teenagers lay somewhere in the living room, slouched on a couch or armchair, or directly on the floor, completely stuffed. The TV was turned on eventually, and Kira and Lydia started studying for one class or another. Eventually Stiles grabbed his guitar and sat against the wall across from the front door, too distracted to fully practice, but fiddling around with it. 

One second nobody was paying too much attention to him, and the next Kira was walking over to where he was sat with Cora in tow. Lacking the energy to get worked up about the inevitable he lets the ladies approach and sit down across from him. 

“Can I help you?” Stiles keeps his tone light, and Kira only smiles wider. 

“I couldn’t help but notice you were over here by yourself, and I thought you might like an audience.” The false innocence in her voice was easy to notice, but Stiles got the feeling she wasn’t trying very hard. Next to her Cora was practically giggling. “And I’ve heard such great things about you and this guitar.” 

“Oh, really?” Stiles thinks he needs to reevaluate the people he’s friends with. They have far too great of a hold on him. The pair in front of him continue to smile and Stiles sighs. A look behind them to the rest of the room confirms that everyone else is now paying attention to him instead of their various other activities. Someone mutes the TV. 

Resigning himself to his fate as the performer of the group, Stiles waves his arm, motioning for everyone to come over. If he’s going to do this, he’s not going to be made to get up and move for them, they have to come to him. It’s pretty comical how quickly everyone moves to get a better view of his position. The space isn’t exactly optimal, with Cora and Kira sat right in front of him, Lydia and Scott off to the side practically in the hallway, Isaac in the armchair turned to face him, and Derek on the couch, leaning over the arm. Stiles notices that Derek is the last to move to his position, and while the others look eager, he looks almost anxious. It’s not too obvious in his expression, but Stiles prides himself on being able to pick up Derek’s emotions from his face, partly because Derek isn’t the best at expressing them verbally. 

Stiles himself feels pretty anxious. Just because he’s now aware of what is motivating his song choice doesn’t mean he’s powerless to change it, and now that he’s playing in front of Derek for the first time after realizing his feelings, it makes him nervous. Especially after noticing the odd expression on Derek’s face. 

Knowing there’s no way to back out now, Stiles positions himself to begin. “I’m going to warn you though—“ 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not a singer, we know.” Cora rolls her eyes affectionately and waves her arm. Stiles smiles at her and feels some of the tension leave his body. He decides to try to forget Derek is even there. 

Taking a deep breath and repositioning his fingers, Stiles begins to play, and sing (when he sings it’s more like half talking and half singing, because he is again, not a singer), the first verse. 

_“D’you want to go to the seaside?_  
 _I’m not tryna’ say that everybody wants to go._  
 _I fell in love at the seaside._   
_I handled my charm with time and slight of hand.”_

Stiles realizes that ignoring Derek is utterly hopeless. No matter how many other people are here with him, no matter how important they are, his eyes and his mind are drawn immediately to Derek. As he goes on it’s almost a physical as well as mental effort to keep his gaze away from the man, but with everyone else there it would be too embarrassing, for him and for Derek. 

_“But I’m just trying to love you,_   
_Any kind of way._   
_But I find it hard to love you, girl,_   
_When you’re far away, away.”_

When Stiles lets himself look up, he makes an effort to look at everyone else first. He notices Scott looking and Kira like she’s the sun, and Kira returning his gaze shyly. Lydia has closed her eyes, and Cora is beaming at him again. Isaac looks at Scott, unnoticed, and Stiles feels a pinch of sympathy. But it’s not enough to keep his gaze from its inevitable destination. 

As the song repeats and Stiles finally looks at Derek, their eyes don’t meet. Derek is oriented towards him, but staring at a spot on the floor to the left of Stiles. There’s a faint pink color to his cheeks that confuses Stiles. When he gets back to the line, “I’m just trying to love you,” Derek’s eyes close, and his head bows just the tiniest bit. Stiles looks away, feeling a little light headed all of a sudden, and a few moments later the song ends. 

Stiles’ brain is dying to overanalyze what just happened, but he’s still in a room full of werewolves and other hyper observant teenagers, and he can’t give himself away. So he tamps the reaction down as much as he can and smiles at his friends. Cora starts clapping and soon everyone is joining in, and Stiles keeps his eyes off of Derek to avoid a possible heart attack. 

The pack disperses again to their original activities. Isaac stands up and announces that Chris was picking him up soon. 

“Should someone stay with you?” Scott sounds like he already knows the answer, but feels compelled to ask anyway. 

Isaac shakes his head. “I’ll be safe with Chris. You know he won’t leave me alone for a second now.” With a small smile Isaac takes to gathering his things, and a few minutes later a knock comes to the door. Stiles answers it, since they’re still in his house, and Chris smiles at him from the porch. 

The two walk in to the house and Stiles realizes belatedly that this may be the first time since they killed the Nogitsune that Stiles has seen Chris on neutral terms. It doesn’t strike the chord of anxiety and guilt in him that he expected it would. 

Before they leave Chris takes some time to talk to Derek and Scott, while the rest of the pack bids Isaac goodbye for the night. It’s still only Thursday, so they’ll see each other at school tomorrow, and Derek and Cora decide to do the patrols tonight and try and investigate the lake more in the morning. 

After Isaac leaves the rest filter out in kind. Lydia goes with Kira to her house after a short and curt call to her mother, and Derek and Cora head out to the loft. Stiles walks them to the door and Derek smiles a full and genuine smile at him, almost a different person than the one Stiles saw while he was playing. 

Scott stays to spend the night and Stiles knocks on the Sheriff’s office door to let him know that the others have left, and detail the plan for tomorrow. The man bids them goodnight, saying he still has some work to get done before he goes to bed himself. 

Stiles and Scott head upstairs to his bedroom but it’s not quite late enough to be able to sleep yet, so they crowd together on Stiles’ bed in front of the laptop. Stiles tries to absorb himself in the episode of Face Off they’re watching, but his mind keeps drifting to the expression on Derek’s face. 

“That looks so realistic.” Scott says, and Stiles agrees, barely knowing what he’s even agreeing to he’s so distracted. At that point Scott pauses the show. Stiles looks at him and frowns, and Scott replies by rolling his eyes. “Stiles, that was the least realistic alien I’ve ever seen. Where are you right now?” 

Scott’s voice isn’t judgmental, just slightly concerned sounding, and Stiles sighs. He isn’t sure how to say it. “Did you see Derek today, when I was playing _Seaside?”_

Scott sits up a little more, positioning himself for a real conversation. “No, why?” Of course he didn’t, because he was too busy looking at Kira and drooling, but Stiles doesn’t say that. 

“I don’t know.” Stiles truly doesn’t know how to describe it. “He had his eyes closed and he had this expression on his face, like…” 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t know how to describe it.” It’s almost like he was in pain, but Stiles doesn’t want to say that, because it’s not totally right. He doesn’t have words for what he saw in Derek’s face. 

They stay silent for a minute, both contemplative, before Scott replies. “I think you’re wrong about Derek, you just don’t want to see it.” 

“What do you mean? Wrong about what?” Anxiety starts to build in Stiles’ chest, slightly afraid of what Scott is about to say. 

“I think there’s a definite chance that he already feels the same way about you. And before you just wave me off, really listen.” Stiles looks to his friend, sees the sincerity in his face, and nods for Scott to continue. “I’m getting the same kind of stuff from him as I have been from you. Derek’s definitely better at hiding his emotions than you are,” which Stiles wholeheartedly agrees with, “but he can’t do anything about his chemosignals.” 

“But what if you’re wrong? What if you’re just interpreting them wrong or something?” Stiles doesn’t know if he’s ready to believe that he might have a chance with Derek. The proposition is too frightening. “Then I’m risking what we have already, and I don’t know what I would do if that was gone.” 

“Do you trust me?” 

Stiles answers on instinct. “Of course I do, man.” He’ll always trust Scott, even when he makes mistakes, because that’s what they do. 

“Then believe me. I’m not saying you have to do anything about it right now, but don’t completely write off the possibility that he’s in to you too.” 

Stiles doesn’t know how to respond, doesn’t really want to, so after a moment of letting it sink in, he presses play on his laptop. Scott sinks back to his original slouched position, but Stiles can tell not all of his concentration is on the screen anymore. 

A tiny bit of hope swells inside Stiles, that maybe he and Derek don’t have to stay the way they are now, that maybe they can be more. But it’s dangerous and scary to think that way, so he pushes the matter from his mind and focuses on the horribly designed alien head on the screen in front of him. 

It only takes one more episode for Scott to pass out next to him, so Stiles shuts the computer and sets it on the floor next to him. He lays awake for a while, thoughts still buzzing through his head, before he eventually falls asleep.


	22. Chapter 22

Stiles has a nightmare that night, another vague shroud of mist that seems to choke him in his sleep, and he wakes Scott up in the bed next to him. Scott pats him sympathetically and when Stiles wakes up again that morning, the alpha’s arm is draped across him. A warmth spreads in Stiles’ belly, but then his alarm goes off and Scott wakes up and they have to get ready for school. 

The Sheriff is working a normal day shift so he’s getting ready to leave around the time that the two boys are shoving pop-tarts into their mouths. He surprises Stiles by giving him a side hug and making him promise to check in with their plan after school. 

Said school day goes by pretty uneventfully. Stiles gets his history essay back with an infuriating 89%. They have chicken burgers and curly fries for lunch. Chemistry sucks. Nothing supernatural there.

Scott gets a call from Cora after school, right as they’re heading to the Jeep, and while still on the phone directs Stiles back to his house. Stiles can’t hear Cora, and all he gets from Scott are half-questions, presumably cut off by Cora, and mumbled agreement. When Scott finally hangs up, just as they’re pulling in to the house, he looks a little confused. 

“She said to bring blankets and DVD’s to the loft. But she wouldn’t tell me why.” 

“I like the sound of that,” Stiles replies. They set to gathering the supplies and carrying them out to the car. As they’re arguing over which DVD’s to bring, the Sheriff walks in. He smiles at the boys on the floor in front of the TV before walking down the hall to shed his belt and gun. 

“Where you guys headed?” The words are muffled at first but become clearer as he comes back into the room. 

“Derek and Cora’s. Dad, will you please tell Scott that it doesn’t have to be winter to watch A Christmas Story?”

“Sorry Scott, it’s a classic.” The Sheriff shrugs and Scott pouts a little bit. “Call me when you know how late you’ll be?” 

“Sure, will do.” Stiles got his pick, and Scott picks Ghostbusters. With that they head back to the Jeep and start toward the loft. 

 

By the time they arrive, everyone else is already there. The couches have been pushed back almost to the wall and the space in front of the TV has piles of pillows and blankets strewn about. 

Stiles hadn’t even realized how jittery he had felt throughout the day, but when he spots Derek just coming out from the kitchen area, he relaxes completely. Thankfully this time nobody smirks at him, so either they’ve acclimated to his obviousness or he’s getting better at hiding it. 

Scott drops their additions on to the giant pile on the floor and hands the DVD’s to Cora for approval. Derek announces he’s just ordered the pizzas and they should be here within the hour. 

Cora makes everyone sit in the blanket-pillow nest and then addresses the whole pack. “We looked around the lake and the whole western perimeter earlier today and couldn’t find anything. So,” her expression moves from serious to playful, “we’re having a movie night. We’re all going to sleep together in this giant pile on the floor and we’re not going to worry ourselves about things that aren’t threats yet.” 

A general murmur of assent flows through the teenagers and it’s set. Stiles calls his father, as promised, to let him know they’re all spending the night at the loft. Cora takes Lydia and Kira upstairs to give them some more comfortable clothes for the night. 

By five o’clock they’re all settled in with a huge amount of pizza and junk food, with their first movie (Legally Blonde, thanks to Lydia) going. Originally Stiles is sitting between Kira and Cora, but after lots of shuffling to refill popcorn and get rid of empty bags and plates, he ends up with Lydia on one side and Derek on the other. 

They decide to try to watch everyone’s movies instead of only voting on a few from the mix. Ghostbusters is up next, and after that The Princess Bride and Horrible Bosses. Sometime during A Christmas Story Lydia falls asleep leaning on Isaac, who succumbs soon afterwards. Slowly the rest follow suit, until Derek and Stiles are left watching the end of Tron Legacy. 

When the movie ends Stiles looks back to Derek to make some kind of joke about the children not being able to stay awake past midnight, but he hadn’t realized how close they had drifted, and when he does turn their faces are only inches away, Stiles leaning on Derek’s shoulder. The words die on his tongue and his mouth goes dry. 

That tension that Stiles feels between them flairs up, stronger than he’s ever felt it, and it would be so easy to just lean that extra two inches in and press his mouth to Derek’s. But before he does, before he completely embarrasses himself and ruins his life forever, he backs up a little bit. Derek stammers in a low voice, “I have to pee,” before getting up quickly and ascending the stairs. 

When Derek’s mouth is no longer distracting him, Stiles recognizes the tight feeling in his pants with a little bit of shock. It hadn’t been something he paid much attention to, but since the Nogitsune Stiles hadn’t felt one bit of actual physical arousal. After so long it’s a nice feeling, but then he remembers that all of his friends are werewolves and thinks his best cold shower thoughts. 

He still feels a little embarrassed though, so the coward in him lays down and closes his eyes, feigning sleep. Stiles knows that Derek can tell he’s still awake, but nevertheless, he wants to know what Derek will do. 

That little tiny hopeful voice in his head is shouting for joy when Derek comes back from upstairs, lays down next to Stiles, as close as he can get without literally cuddling him, and goes straight to sleep. 

Stiles sleeps fitfully. He has no problem relaxing, but even though he’s on top of an impressive amount of blankets, he can’t seem to get comfortable. Once he’s sure Derek is asleep he fidgets and turns a little, until he’s on his back with his head tilted towards the man. After that, he’s a little distracted. 

In that moment, Stiles allows himself to imagine that Scott was right, that he really has a chance with Derek. It goes against every instinct to believe that, after trying to shield himself from the possibility of getting hurt, but here in the dark with a sleeping Derek next to him, he indulges himself. 

It’s not just that Stiles wants Derek for himself, though that is a part of it, he also wants to give himself to Derek. He wants to share everything that he has. The pack being united and Cora committing to Beacon Hills have both helped Derek tremendously, but there’s still a lot of brooding hurt left in him, and Stiles wants to do everything in his power to eradicate it. He wants to be able to hold the man in his arms and tell him that he loves him.

Finally finding a comfortable position, Stiles drifts to sleep, his mind wandering through visions of a domestic life with Derek. 

 

A gentle light floats in to the space through the huge windows, and Stiles wakes slowly. At first he’s in denial about it being morning and time to get up, because he’s warm and cozy and finally comfortable. He fails to get back to sleep though, so for a while he’s just lying there. Once he’s committed to being awake he opens his eyes to Derek’s neck. He’s confused for a second, but doesn’t move until he realizes Derek is definitely already awake. Immediately his cheeks color and he moves his head back. Once he’s a respectable distance away Derek turns his head toward Stiles with a smirk, seemingly mocking. 

Stiles opens his mouth, to say what he doesn’t really know, but before he can embarrass himself further Derek puts his index finger to his own lips, the universal “shhh”. Stiles, for once in his life, obliges. Derek sits up and looks over at the rest of the sleeping teenagers before standing completely and helping Stiles up. The two pad over to the little kitchen area, Derek leading the way. 

Stiles’ unspoken question is answered when Derek wordlessly pulls out a box of Bisquick. Stiles raises his eyebrows at first, but gives a thumbs up, and Derek’s answering smile just about stabs him in the heart. 

It’s a little challenging to get the bowls and pans out (which Stiles had to basically force Derek to buy) without making a whole lot of noise, but if anyone does wake up they don’t show it. The hardest part is not laughing out loud, especially when Derek is trying to measure out the Bisquick and gets it all over himself in the process, and then proceeds to slap his white-powdered hand in Stiles’ hair in retaliation. It’s remarkable they have enough for the actual pancakes. 

In the end they make most of the box, and Stiles is glad that Derek hadn’t fought him over the number of plates he had made the man buy, as the pancakes pile up. There are some stirring noises from the living room, and a few moments later a bleary eyed Isaac comes through the entry. He looks both Stiles and Derek up and down, eyebrows raised at the coating of white powder on the both of them. “I won’t ask.” Stiles snorts, but interestingly Derek’s cheeks color. 

Isaac turns around and walks back to the living room. Cora is the next to come in, and she bursts out laughing at them. “You’re both ridiculous.” 

Derek’s eyes achieve a mischievous glint. “Are we?” He takes a few measured steps toward his sister, and her smile fades.   
She starts to say “you wouldn’t” at the same time Derek says “how about a hug” and in less than two seconds Derek has her in a vice grip and she’s positively squealing. Stiles thinks quickly and grabs a small handful of the leftover powder and tosses it at her, most of it landing in her hair. His motion throws him off a little, and the floor has its fair share of powder as well, which sends Stiles grabbing at Derek’s back to steady himself. Instead, all three of them end up on the floor. 

At this point everyone is awake, and have gathered at the kitchen entry. Scott and Kira are laughing, and Lydia is shaking her head fondly. 

Stiles gets to his feet first, as Cora is trying to shake her hair out on her brother, and soaks up the moment. He’s never seen the Hale’s more playful and relaxed, and if Stiles could be with these people for the rest of his life, he thinks he would be happy no matter what. 

The rest of the pack is less interested in the tussle when they notice the giant stacks of pancakes perched on all available space in the small kitchen, and take it to themselves to divvy them up and bring all the food back out to the living room. By that time Cora has gotten over the momentary sting of betrayal and is helping Derek to his feet. When Derek is moving toward the living room, and his back is turned, Cora turns back to Stiles and raises her eyebrows. He shrugs at her, not quite sure what she’s trying to say. This prompts her to point back to her brother and wiggle her eyebrows a little. 

Stiles rolls his eyes at her and shoos her away. She rolls her eyes back, but leaves him in the kitchen. As he’s grabbing the orange juice he becomes a little irritated with her, and with a few other members of the pack. Why can’t he have a nice moment with Derek, or spend any time with him, without people making it about Stiles’ feelings? Last night was a slightly weak moment, and he’ll admit that Derek is becoming easier to embarrass, but Stiles is still pretty firm in his belief that he’s alone in his feelings for Derek. No matter how much he wants it to happen, no matter how good it would be for the both of them, there’s no way that Derek Hale is ever going to want him in that way. 

However, he refuses to let his own inadequacy ruin the perfectly fine morning, so Stiles steadies himself, takes a deep breath, and brings a pitcher of OJ out to his friends. 

Breakfast is as hectic as any meal with a group of teenage werewolves ever is. It’s quick though, and Cora and Isaac volunteer to do the dishes while everyone else gathers up the remaining blankets and pillows. Soon enough the whole loft is cleaned up. 

Around ten the pack starts to dissipate. Scott and Cora decide to take a run through the perimeter and check for any new scents. Derek has been giving Kira some training in hand-to-hand combat in case she ever loses her sword, so she stays behind. Lydia asks Stiles if he wants her help doing any last minute preparations for their finals, which start on Wednesday morning. He accepts, but as they’re getting ready to leave, Isaac asks if he can tag along. 

Stiles gives Derek and Kira a smile and a wave goodbye and leads the two down to the Jeep. The ride to Stiles’ house is quiet, as Lydia and Isaac seem to still be waking up, but once they get there Lydia wastes no time getting down to business. 

Isaac is more of a passive participant. He’s very confident he’ll do well on the tests, and Stiles is jealous of his ease and lack of anxiety. They work on flash cards and practice quizzes for a few hours, stopping around noon to have lunch. Lydia gives Stiles a look at the amount of mustard he smears on his sandwich, but she doesn’t even like ketchup, so her view on condiments is fundamentally flawed. 

Eventually they decide there’s been enough school work for the day and Stiles introduces them to the beauty that is Kimmy Schmidt on Netflix. The Sheriff is home most of the time but absent around the house, doing work in his office, the yard, or going out to run quick errands. Stiles supposes he’s getting as much done during the day he can, as he’s going in late for an overnight shift. 

Lydia gets a few texts over the couple of episodes they watch, and it says something about her interest in the show that she doesn’t even look at them. Around three Isaac gets a call from Cora and they pause for him to answer. Lydia takes the opportunity to read the messages. Isaac moves the phone away from his mouth, as if to ask Lydia a question, when she cuts him off. 

“I got the texts. Tell Cora I’ll come, and we should go soon so we have time to shop before they close.” 

Isaac nods and speaks back into the receiver. “You heard that?” 

While he finishes up their conversation Lydia explains to Stiles. “Kira and Cora have yet to get dresses for the party, so we’re going to the mall to pick some out. Can I trust you to find a matching tie, or should I just get you one myself?” 

The idea of getting a color description from Lydia and having to find the right tie is daunting to Stiles, so he goes with the latter. She smiles at him and pats his shoulder, somewhat condescendingly, but also fondly. They finish up their episode and by the time it’s over Cora is knocking at the door. Stiles lets her in while Lydia is gathering her newly made study materials from the kitchen. 

“Scott and Derek are at the property now,” Cora says, the property being their term for the still unfurnished yet complete Hale house, “but I’m not sure for how long. We didn’t find anything of interest.”

“Good to know.” Stiles replies, and at the mention of Scott, Isaac appears from the living room.   
“Are we still on the buddy system?” 

Cora snorts at his terminology. 

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Stilinski?” Isaac’s tone is purely playful, and Stiles is glad that Isaac seems to know they’re (mostly) over the issues they had with each other before. Stiles answers only with a punch on the shoulder. 

Lydia exits the kitchen all ready to go. She gives Isaac and Stiles a squeeze on the arm and then looks very seriously at the both of them. “No Kimmy Schmidt without me.” Isaac complains, but Stiles agrees. 

Once they leave, Isaac and Stiles sift through the entertainment center for a game to play, and settle on Super Smash Bros Melee. Stiles sticks with Luigi and initially totally owns Isaac’s Captain Falcon, but when Isaac switches to Falco, Stiles doesn’t stand a chance. 

They get about an hour in when Isaac receives another call, this time from Scott. Stiles can’t hear the other end, and isn’t trying too, but Isaac is definitely blushing. When Isaac hangs up he seems reluctant to talk about it, but doesn’t move to continue the game either. After a minute Stiles makes a decision and shuts off the GameCube. 

“Have you guys talked about it?” Isaac’s head snaps up at Stiles’ voice, like he had been lost in thought. He looks back down for a moment before answering. 

“Not much.” Isaac sighs. “But we should.” He motions to the phone still in his hand. “He wants me to come over tonight.” 

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Stiles says, “but if you do, I’ll listen.” 

Isaac meets Stiles’ eye with a small smile. He looks away again and his eyes lose a little of their focus. “It’s just a fucked up situation.” 

“Did you tell him yourself, or did he guess?” Stiles doesn’t want to pry, but he can tell that Isaac isn’t done with the conversation yet, and he really does want to help. 

“A little bit of both.” Isaac runs a hand through his hair. “But in all honesty, there’s not much to talk about. Because of Kira.” Stiles nods, not really sure how to respond. Isaac’s phone vibrates with a text and he glances down at it, but doesn’t reply. “I hate to do this but –“ 

Stiles cuts him off. “Dude, don’t worry about it. My dad is home, I’ll be fine.” Their buddy system can only maintain itself for so long, and Stiles understands why Isaac needs to leave. If he can understand anything right now, it’s how Isaac must be feeling, especially considering it’s Scott he has to have an emotional talk with. 

“Thanks.” Isaac’s shy smile turns to a smirk. “Though, I’m sure Derek won’t leave you here by yourself for very long.” 

 

Scott plans to meet Isaac at Stiles’ house so they can walk to Scott’s together, and Isaac opts to wait outside for him. Stiles walks him to the door and while he’s saying goodbye, Stiles’ phone buzzes with a text, revealed to be from Derek. Isaac winks and Stiles smacks his arm for the second time today, practically shooing him out before reading the message. As soon as the door is shut he pulls out his phone, and all the text says is, “Is Isaac leaving?” to which Stiles replies in the affirmative. 

Stiles puts away the controllers and console in the living room, and the Sheriff finds him there. “Game just started.” Stiles had almost forgotten about the late baseball game his father wanted to watch tonight, can’t even recall who is playing. He turns on the TV and hands over the remote. 

Stiles had expected a text back from Derek, but he doesn’t receive one. At the next commercial break his father gets up to grab a beer from the kitchen. Stiles hears the front door open and close, and turns around in confusion, only to see his father walking back to the room with a beer in his hand and Derek in tow. 

The two sit down on the couch and the first thing Derek says to Stiles is, “Buddy system?” 

Stiles shoulder checks him. “Do you have a better term?” 

At that moment the game comes back on and the Sheriff shushes them. “No bickering, it’s back.” Stiles chuckles fondly at his father and looks to Derek, but he seems to be just as focused on the TV. 

“The Angels have no chance.” The Sheriff seems a little shocked that Derek speaks, but recovers quickly. 

“Definitely. Seattle’s been killing it the past couple weeks.” Stiles sits back and splits his attention between the game and the people with him on the couch. 

He soon loses his focus, though, due to a feeling swelling up in his chest. The past 24 hours have been like a resting period after working for too damn long, he thinks. Last night, watching movies and falling asleep in a nest of pillows and blankets. This morning, messing around with Derek and spending time with his pack. And now this, watching Derek and his father bonding over sports. It’s almost too much, almost like he has a normal and happy life. Stiles would be happy being a high school cliché if it meant he could continue like this indeterminately. 

Evidently, Derek and the Sheriff were correct. The Mariners slaughter the Angels, and by the sixth inning they’re up by seven runs. They decide to call it and eat some dinner. There’s no discussion about Derek being there, or for how long he will stay, so he and Stiles’ father must have had a short conversation when he first walked in the door. Either way, Stiles isn’t complaining. 

They make pleasant conversation as the pasta bakes in the oven. At times the Sheriff asks some uncomfortable questions, about Derek’s future and his education and such. Derek handles it with as much grace as possible. When he eventually excuses himself to use the restroom, and is therefore out of earshot, Stiles gives his father a look. 

“What?” The look on his face is over-innocent. 

Stiles’ look intensifies. “What’s with the questions?” 

“I just want an idea of what he has planned out.” Again, there’s a trace of falsity. 

“If I didn’t know better, I would say this sounds a lot like you’re grilling my boyfriend.” Stiles huffs a little. 

Alarmingly, the Sheriff does not reply. He raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of his beer, never meeting Stiles’ eyes. That’s when it clicks. 

“Dad!” His father winces at the tone. “We’re not—“ Stiles hears footsteps on the stairs and cuts himself off. This is embarrassing enough without Derek actually present, thank you very much. “This conversation is not over.” Derek walks in and sits back down, not oblivious to the tension left in the room. The Sheriff takes the opportunity to check on the pasta. 

“Did I miss something?” Derek asks Stiles, leaning in and whispering. Stiles has to force himself not to blush. 

“No, it’s nothing.” Derek doesn’t look appeased, but doesn’t push the topic. 

The Sheriff calls for Stiles to set the table, as the pasta is done baking. Stiles sets the plates and Derek follows him with the silverware, and again, Stiles has to focus on not blushing. His father’s insinuation is tinting everything in his mind now. 

For the second time today he becomes annoyed with the outside interference in his and Derek’s friendship. Because that’s all it is. A very close friendship. They’re pack, after all, and every pack member has a different and special bond with everyone else. Stiles knows now that Derek obviously cares about him and trusts him to a certain extent. He’s satisfied with that. 

Thankfully, the Sheriff decides to lay off Derek for the rest of the evening, and dinner is a lot less awkward. They talk about the house, about how they’re waiting until school is over to officially furnish everything but Derek’s bedroom so that Lydia can commit her full attention to the important decisions. Though his father has been caught up about the supernatural, he’s still missing some of the background and details, and that comes up. 

When they’re done eating Derek volunteers to do the dishes. He also refers to the Sheriff as ‘sir’, which gets a chuckle out of the man. “Son, call me John.” 

Retiring to his room to put on his uniform and prepare for his night shift at the station, John leaves the two to clean up. Derek washes while Stiles dries, occasionally flicking water at each other and bickering as always. On his way out, Stiles’ father gives them a wave goodbye. 

After the dishes are washed and the leftovers are packed up in the fridge, Stiles and Derek retire to the couch. Stiles opts to read, and Derek turns the TV on but keeps the volume low enough not to distract him. At one point Derek gets up to refill his glass of water and Stiles takes the opportunity to stretch out on the couch, his head against the arm, and his feet where Derek was sitting. When Derek comes back, without a word, he picks up Stiles’ legs and deposits himself closer to Stiles, setting Stiles’ knees over his lap. Stiles is glad for the book covering his face so Derek can’t see whatever weird expression he’s sure is occupying it. 

They stay that way for a little over an hour, Derek’s right arm over the couch back and his left resting on Stiles’ calves. It gets slightly harder for Stiles to be immersed in his book, but he doesn’t want to stop reading, wanting the moment to last forever. 

Stiles feels a pressure on his knee and drops the book to peer at Derek. The TV has been turned off, and Derek meets his eye. “Let me know when you’re at a good pause point,” he says, looking slightly anxious. Stiles only has a little over a page until the chapter ends, so once he’s done with that he closes the book and sets it down. 

Derek has a serious look on his face so Stiles pulls his legs back and sits up in earnest, with his back against the rest, facing Derek. His face is scrunched up a little bit when he starts. “I just, there’s something I wanted to ask you. But I want you to know that you can say no. Don’t feel obligated, or anything.” 

Stiles is a little lost, but nods for Derek to continue. It takes him a minute to gather his thoughts, but at this point Stiles is used to what it takes Derek to have any serious emotional conversation, so he waits as patiently as he can. Derek shifts around a little, eventually ending up with his legs crossed, facing Stiles, a mirror of his positon. Anxiety starts to build inside Stiles over what Derek is going to ask him. 

“My parents share, shared, a birthday. July 12th,” Derek finally begins. The mention of Derek’s family throws Stiles off a little. Derek’s pinched expression loosens, like he can’t talk about his parents this way with a frown on his face. “They used to say it meant they were soul mates. My father proposed to her on their birthday.” 

Derek takes another pause, his expression getting harder to read. “I didn’t want—it’s hard to be here. Especially after tearing the house down. Cora wants to go back to South America, to visit the pack she escaped to, for a few days. She invited me to go, but—“ Derek can’t seem to find the words, and looks to the ground, like the answers are stitched into the rug. Stiles reaches out and puts his hand on Derek’s shoulder, almost on reflex, and he can feel some of the tension leave him. 

“I decided I want to take a road trip.” Stiles frowns, not sure he likes the idea of Derek being alone and far away on what’s obviously a difficult day for him. Derek looks back to Stiles and meets his eye. “And I wanted to ask you if you would come with me.” 

The room is completely silent for a few seconds while Stiles processes Derek’s request. Derek takes the hesitation to speak as an unwillingness to answer, and backpedals slightly. “Like I said, if that’s too much for you, you don’t have to come. I can—“ 

“Derek.” Stiles squeezes where his hand is still on Derek’s shoulder. “Of course I will.” 

“Are you sure?” Derek’s eyes look scared, but of Stiles saying yes or Stiles saying no, he’s not sure. 

“Yes. I’m positive.” Stiles stays solid in his eye contact and the pressure of his hand. “Can I ask you something, though?” Not only is it monumental for Derek to be asking for this kind of emotional support, to realize what’s best for him, but Stiles is awestruck that it’s him he is asking to come. “Why me?” 

Derek looks a little surprised, like he hadn’t expected the question, and isn’t prepared with a response. “I never considered anyone else.” Stiles isn’t totally satisfied with that response and Derek can tell, thinking for a moment and then going on. “I don’t know, I guess it’s because you know me, and you know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but you’re still here. I don’t know if I could say anyone in the pack knows me better than you do, but you still put up with me. I trust you.” 

Stiles is torn apart for a moment, between being happy that Derek thinks he knows him better than anyone and him actually saying he trusts Stiles, and being irritated about how self-deprecating Derek managed to make that sound. 

The irritation wins out and Stiles can’t help himself. He scoots closer to Derek and puts his other hand on the man’s other shoulder, directing his attention at Stiles, demanding his eye contact. “I want you to listen to me carefully.” Derek looks a little worried but gives a tiny nod. “I’m really happy you asked me to accompany you on this trip. But you need to know that everyone in the pack understands and appreciates you.”

Derek’s voice is almost a whisper when he mutters, “I know.” It’s not very believable. 

“Do you?” Stiles can feel a pressure inside himself building. “We’re not just here, I’m not just here because of circumstance. You weren’t accepted into the pack just because you’re a werewolf and you’re building a big house. I don’t ‘put up with’ you.” Stiles’ hands move from Derek’s shoulders to the sides of his neck of their own volition. 

“We care about you, I care about you. Because you are a person worth caring about. You are not your mistakes and you are not your past. You are the Derek Hale in front of me right now, who is generous and caring and honest.” The pressure building inside Stiles gets to be too much, and he can feel the burning of it in his throat, with no relief. “You are incredibly lovely, you idiot.” 

Stiles has been leaning forward without noticing and now their faces are only a few inches apart. Derek’s expression is unreadable. Stiles only has a second to be worried about Derek’s reaction to what he just said before the most amazing and unthinkable thing happens. He doesn’t remember telling his arms to move, to pull Derek towards him, so he can’t be sure if it was him or Derek who moved, but suddenly their lips are colliding and Holy Shit, they are kissing.

At first Stiles is too shocked to react, but after he can feel Derek pulling back from him, he rushes forward. His hands move, one to the back of Derek’s neck, and the other back to his shoulder. Derek smiles into the kiss, apparently amused at Stiles’ enthusiasm, and one of his hands finds its way to Stiles’ side. 

When the kiss breaks Derek presses his forehead to Stiles’, both of them breathing heavily. Stiles opens his eyes to Derek’s blinding smile, a shocked breath escaping him. He pulls back just an inch, enough to see Derek’s whole face. “Whoa.” 

Derek chuckles a little. “Yeah.” 

The reality of what just happened sinks in for Stiles then, and he can feel the enormous, goofy grin spread across his face. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

Stiles doesn’t know what to do other than just stare at Derek. He knows they must look pretty dumb, sitting on the couch smiling at each other silently. His brain catches up to him enough to form full sentences. “I had no idea that you…” Stiles honestly didn’t believe he and Derek would ever be kissing on his couch, yet here they are. Suddenly looking anywhere but Derek’s mouth is very difficult. 

“I wasn’t going to do anything about it but… after that I just…” Derek leans forward the tiniest bit, like he’s going to kiss Stiles again, which would be totally awesome, but then pulls back again, a frown suddenly appearing. “This is okay, right?” 

“Yes!” Stiles answers immediately. “Yes, more than okay, amazing, beautiful—“ This time, Derek leans in and cuts Stiles off with a kiss. It’s softer this time, Stiles coming to terms with the fact that this will happen more than once, and he doesn’t have to launch himself at Derek. 

Initially Stiles thought Derek couldn’t get any better. He was wrong. 

Derek is an amazing kisser. Stiles doesn’t have a whole lot of experience in that area, but he makes up for it by being willing and plastic. He has no idea how long they spend on the couch, partly because Derek’s hands are rubbing circles into his ribs and scalp and it’s positively intoxicating, but he could spend all night here and not be disappointed in the slightest. Unfortunately it’s a Sunday and he has to go to school tomorrow, so eventually he asks Derek if he wants to go upstairs. 

An amused look crosses Derek’s face and Stiles reevaluates his phrasing. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean. I just meant to my bed.” Derek’s eyebrows raise at that, and Stiles wants to kick himself. “For sleep! I’m asking if you want to sleep with me!” 

This time, Derek straight cracks up. Stiles gives up resisting the blush which has now probably completely overtaken his face and drops back on the couch. Derek takes Stiles’ hand and attempts to pull him back up, but doesn’t put any force into it, expecting Stiles to follow. Only he doesn’t. “Stiles.” 

Stiles puts his free arm over his face. “Nope, I’m too embarrassed now.” Derek chuckles again and Stiles feels him get off the couch. 

“Suit yourself.” Stiles takes his arm off his face and sees Derek walk around the couch to the hall. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Your bed.” Derek’s voice is teasing, and as he’s about to pass out of Stiles’ view, he pulls off his shirt, and then continues to the stairs. 

“Hey!” Stiles yells. For a half a second he thinks he’ll stay, then he bolts up and off the couch to follow. “So not fair!” Stiles jogs up the stairs and opens the door to his room. He’s attacked immediately by Derek, closing the door behind him and pushing him up against it. 

Stiles’ brain goes blank instantly and his body takes over. Derek presses one knee in between Stiles’ and a small moan escapes the boy. Stiles doesn’t have the time or frame of mind to feel embarrassed, especially when it seems to drive a reaction from Derek, who kisses down his jaw to his throat. Meanwhile Derek’s hands are worming under Stiles’ shirt, his fingertips sending electricity and heat to Stiles’ very core. 

Derek shifts a little, resulting his thigh pushing right into Stiles’ rapidly growing erection, and the moan it elicits is louder this time. Derek leaves Stiles’ throat and captures his mouth once more. Stiles is gaining confidence every second, and he nips at Derek’s lip a little, while pushing his own leg up a little bit. Stiles is rewarded with a throaty growl from Derek. He can feel how hard Derek is through layers of fabric, and it’s driving him absolutely crazy. 

Stiles does not want his first sexual experience with Derek to be standing against his door, though, so a few seconds later when Derek pulls back and latches on to his neck, Stiles murmurs “hey, bed,” and motions his head to the right. 

“As you wish,” Derek replies, and his hands move from Stiles’ sides to his thighs, lifting them up, and Stiles wraps his legs around Derek’s waist with a laugh. Derek carries him the few feet to the bed and drops him down, settling on top of him. He doesn’t rest his whole weight on Stiles, supporting himself with one arm, but he does let Stiles hold just enough of him. 

Stiles puts his hand on Derek’s chest for a moment and wiggles a little bit, trying to get his shirt off while remaining underneath the man. Derek gets the idea and uses his free hand to almost rip it off, which brings another laugh from Stiles. When Derek comes back down their kisses are slower, romantic, exploring. 

Stiles’ hands wander over the expanse of Derek’s bare back, around his shoulder blades, down his spine. Kissing Derek, touching Derek, is like an out of body experience. He can feel his own emotions, his awe, his arousal, but it’s almost like he can feel Derek’s too. An experience tangent to his but not entirely his own. It could be his imagination, or just his euphoria messing with his brain, but Stiles is not complaining. 

As it gets a little later Stiles can feel himself getting more and more tired. Derek notices and rolls on to his side, which rouses complaint from the teen. “You have school tomorrow, go to sleep.” 

Stiles shuffles to his side facing away from Derek, who sidles up to his back. An arm snakes around Stiles’ waist, and Stiles’ fatigue hits him all at once. He falls asleep with the feeling of Derek’s breath against his neck.

 

 

Stiles is in the middle of a dream about him and Derek throwing a dinner party, of all things, when a coldness at his back wakes him up. He’s delirious for a moment, and turns to reach for Derek, but his hands come up empty. A strange noise, like a growl, fills the room and Stiles opens his eyes. He’s momentarily blinded by a light shining right into his unadjusted eyes. A second later a sharp pain strikes him in the temple and everything goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to get out!! It's my first winter in retail and work has been insane. It's a longer one though, hope you enjoy!! Sorry for the cliffhanger ;)


	23. Chapter 23

Stiles’ head hurts. The first things he becomes aware of are all the separate pains. His head, particularly his left temple, his arms and wrists, his upper back. He holds back his moan of pain, not completely aware of his surroundings, but instinctually knowing he needs to remain silent. 

The ground where he is laying is cold and unforgiving, most likely concrete. His eyes are closed, and only a soft light reaches his eyelids, so either the sun is just rising, or he’s somewhere with no natural light. Stiles can’t hear any activity, but he still counts a full two minutes of silence in his head before he allows himself to open his eyes and look around. 

From what he can see without turning his head, he’s in some kind of warehouse or garage. The walls are metal, floors concrete, and there’s a window somewhere behind him letting in the first rays of sun of the day. The far wall in front of him, about 50 feet ahead, has a large metal garage door. A chain link fence runs through the middle of the space, with Stiles on the right side of the area, and the left full mostly of tires. The right wall has two alarmingly large cages lined next to it. 

Stiles moves his arms a little, trying to alleviate the pain of his back, and realizes his wrists are not only chained together, but his arms are tied at the elbow as well. 

The garage door rattles a little and Stiles immediately puts his head down and closes his eyes. 

He hears the door rise, and more light floods into the space. Multiple voices speak quietly, and he can hear something being dragged across the floor. A loud clank arises a little closer, maybe 30 feet ahead of him, and to the left, probably at the fence. More metal clanking noises and complaints from the voices come, then retreating footsteps and the door closing. 

Again, Stiles doesn’t hear any activity, but he counts to three minutes this time before looking, to be safe. When he does open his eyes they go straight to the fence, and his heart drops. 

They hadn’t dragged a “what” into the room, but a “who”. Derek hangs chained to the fence, his arms and legs secured. Obviously unconscious, he is slumped against his restraints, and Stiles whispers his name as loud as he can afford to, to no avail. His eyes scan Derek for any obvious injuries, but all he can see is a small trickle of dried blood coming from his hairline and some blood on his chest, probably from minor cuts that have already healed. 

Stiles fumes quietly. He feels a desperate need to get over to Derek, to wake him up, to do something. But there’s a chance that his movement will make noise and draw their captors to the room. 

After debating for another few seconds Stiles decides to try to shuffle forward on the ground a few inches, testing it out. A grating rattle sounds behind him, and he turns his head to find out what made the noise. 

The cuffs on his wrist are thick metal, but tight, and connected to a chain. Two yards behind Stiles the chain is anchored to a short pole that runs into the concrete. Any movement he makes drags the chain on the concrete. 

Stiles lays his head down on the cool ground, trying to collect his thoughts, and an edge of panic threatens to consume him. His breaths come faster and shallower and his brain starts to get fuzzy. A violent cough breaks him out of his haze and his eyes snap to the fence. 

Derek is coughing, his brow furrowed and eyes still closed, but he is awake, which is definitely a plus. Stiles calls out to him in a whisper. Immediately Derek’s attention is on Stiles, but he looks immensely confused, and the second he opens his mouth to reply, the door rattles and starts to open. Pretending to be unconscious isn’t really an option now that Derek is awake, so Stiles keeps his eyes locked on the door as it opens the rest of the way and three people walk in to the space. 

For a moment the footsteps of their captors constitute the only noise, filling the space and echoing off of the metal walls, but Derek’s low growl soon joins in. Derek’s reaction elicits a smile out of the woman leading the small group. The two men behind her show no expressions. 

“Oh goodie,” she says as she approaches Derek. The men, either unarmed or concealing their weapons, stop a ways behind her. “You’re awake.” Derek slams forward against his restraints, but he’s held in pretty tightly, and she’s standing just out of his reach. Neither she nor her friends flinch a bit. They seem to be confident they’re not in danger. 

The woman continues to smile at Derek. Something about her, something in her eyes, sets Stiles on edge. While the men behind her are pretty nondescript, she’s a little more unique. Along with heavy boots and leather gloves, she adorns an iridescent dress, which drapes off of her and continues to flow in air, as if she were standing in a breeze. All along her arms are intricate tattoos, in pastel blue and purple, a stark contrast to her short dark hair. Stiles is a little mesmerized for a moment, and while he’s trying to decide if she’s wearing dark lipstick or her lips are somehow naturally that shade of purple, her attention turns to him. 

Stiles snaps back to reality and gives her his best glare. “And you as well. Look at our two for one.” Her voice is much harsher than what he would expect. 

“What do you want?” Stiles is mildly surprised at how even his voice sounds, considering he almost had a panic attack less than two minutes ago, and the fact that she is advancing gracefully towards him.

Again, the woman smiles when she reaches him, as if he and Derek are being amusing. “Ah ah ah,” she waves her finger at him, “no speaking out of turn, boy.” Before, crossing the room, she walked slowly, almost floating. Now she flits to Stiles in the blink of an eye, and presses her boot against his shoulder forcefully. The pain of his arms, trapped underneath him now, being pressed against the pavement elicits a small grunt. In turn, Derek’s steady growl gets louder. 

Along with the pain of her foot pressing his shoulder down Stiles feels some kind of current flowing through him, an almost imperceptible bit of electricity. The same unease he felt when he first saw the woman sweeps over him. Angry Fairy gives a shove and pushes off from Stiles, turning herself so her back is to him. Instead of quieting, Derek has just gotten louder. Evil Bitch turns her head back to him after a few steps away. “It’s too bad, really. Given time, training… you could have been something.” 

Dread spreads through Stiles at her implications of his future outside of this warehouse. Anger follows. Seriously, in his life, which hasn’t been very long yet, how many times has he been kidnapped? What about Derek? How is it that people, or whatever the hell she is, think they can get away with this kind of crap? 

Evil Bitch interrupts his train of thought. “And the wolf… will be a completely different waste altogether.” Stiles can’t see her face, but Derek lunges forward again, and Stiles kind of wants to throw up at her tone without even needing to see the leer. Every step she takes in Derek’s direction pumps anger straight into his veins. Stiles could never really physically protect Derek, but he still feels an intense need to get in between Derek and the threat. 

Still on his back, Stiles slides himself backwards with his legs until he can feel the pole on his shoulder. Unnecessarily Aggressive Pixie and her friends don’t pay him any attention. He manages to push himself up to a sitting position supported by the pole. His head spins for a second, but other than that, Stiles counts it as a success. 

Now standing directly in front of Derek, Evil Bitch is back to smiling as Derek growls at her. He’s stretched out as far as his restraints will allow him. Suddenly her smile drops, and she brings her arm out in front of her, hand open and palm out. Stiles feels that weird electricity again as Derek slams back into the fence, as if someone had pushed him. His growls break off into panting. “Butch.” Evil Bitch calls to one of the men hanging back, who must be named Butch, and he untucks something from the back of his pants and points it toward Derek. A pistol. 

Stiles lurches up to a standing position so quickly he almost slams himself back to the ground. It becomes obvious that the chain will only allow him about 10 feet from the pole, nowhere near close enough. Evil Bitch finally looks back at him with a stern expression. “Boy, you tell me everything you know about the True Alpha, or Butch pumps him full of bullets.” She keeps her hand out and steady as she speaks. 

Derek’s eyes swivel to meet Stiles’. Without having to speak, Derek says it all. _Don’t say anything. Don’t worry about me._

“You think I’m stupid? That I’m going to betray my Alpha?” Stiles’ natural instinct in stressful situations is to be annoying. It’s never worked out for him in the past. 

Evil Bitch’s hand starts sparking. Derek is pushed up against the fence with more force, so much that the fence itself is dipping backward, away from her palm. Stiles slightly regrets riling her up when she gives him another smile. 

“Wrong choice.” 

The movement of the gun is minute, and Stiles takes a step forward half a second before feeling the bullet rip in to his leg. He hits the ground, hard, and all he can think is, _holy shit, they shot me._ His own yell of pain echoes around the metal and bounces around in his head before he recovers. The next thing he thinks is, _wait, they shot_ me _?_

Stiles looks to Butch whose gun is still pointed at Derek. Derek who is obviously in pain, whose leg is now bleeding, and who is staring at Stiles in disbelief. His glance moves down to his own leg. There’s no blood, there’s no rip in his jeans. He looks at the obvious lack of a wound, but he can still feel it, hot pain burning somewhere in his calf. It doesn’t make any sense. 

Stiles twists and stretches his leg, but the pain remains constant, he feels no stretching of the wound. He concentrates on it as hard as he can, trying to pinpoint exactly where the wound should be, and he can’t quite do it. It feels different than any pain he’s ever felt. It feels like it’s not _his._

Surprised laughter breaks him out of his concentration. Evil Bitch looks delighted. “Well, well, well.” Her arm comes down and Derek slumps a little, no longer being held against the fence by whatever force she was exerting. “Seems you must be a little more than a chew toy, huh?” 

Unnamed Goon chuckles a little, the first movement he’s made. “What is that supposed to mean?” Derek grunts, but he’s panting a little, and she’s moved her attention to Stiles anyway, making her way across the space. Stiles notices Derek’s already started to sweat, and looks a little pale. Shit. Wolfsbane. 

“That’s a dangerous bond, kid.” Evil Bitch stands over where Stiles is still sprawled out on the ground. “I wonder if it goes both ways.” This time, she flat out kicks him in the stomach. Stiles grunts and tries to roll away from her, but she’s on his other side in the blink of an eye. Derek yells something as the toe of Satan’s Younger Sister’s boot connects with Stiles’ ribs. “Feel that, wolf?” Stiles rolls again, desperate to evade her boot, which feels a lot heavier than it should. 

Stiles’ eyes are watering so he can’t see Derek’s face, just hear the growling peak. Dark Sailor Scout looks down at Stiles, grinning, and Stiles can feel the electricity again. 

She looks like she’s going to kick him another time, but a loud noise catches her off guard. Stiles turns his head toward the door and sure enough, it’s rising. Butch and Goon Two head toward the door, both drawing their guns, but before they have a chance to fire, Isaac and Cora are on top of them. Distantly Stiles can hear Derek coughing again but everything is starting to sound like he’s underwater. Loud pops echo off the walls. Evil Bitch drops hard. 

Scott kneels down next to Stiles and works at the cuffs and rope. It seems they took care of everyone relatively quickly. “Derek, he got shot, wolfsbane.” His lungs wheeze, and he might have a broken rib. Scott doesn’t react, so when his arms are free Stiles pushes him toward the fence, despite the protest from his sore muscles. “Derek.” 

“I know buddy, Chris has him. Derek’s fine. Are you alright?” Scott grabs his arm and does his pain-magic. 

“It’s just my ribs.” Stiles can still feel Derek’s gunshot wound in his leg, Scott’s power ineffectual there, but he figures he’ll wait to mention that. His lungs hitch and he coughs a little, and Scott helps him to his feet. Chris is helping Derek through the door ahead of them, and the Sheriff comes bustling through and jogs to them as soon as he sees Stiles. 

Scott has the wherewithal to let go of Stiles right before the Sheriff gets there, and Stiles is enveloped in his father’s arms. He exhales and finally relaxes. In the thin shirt and sweats he’s pretty cold, which he hadn’t noticed until now. His father pulls back and looks him in the eye. “You scared me, kid.” 

Stiles feels a spark of shame. “Yeah, again. Sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He smiles genuinely, in that way that make his eyes crinkle at the edges, and Stiles can’t resist following suit. The Sheriff’s face grows a little more serious. “Just, please don’t fight me on taking you to Melissa.” 

Stiles nods. “But after we’re going to Deaton’s.” Stiles looks at Scott, hoping to communicate without saying it out loud that he needs to see Derek’s alright. Scott gives him a nod. 

As they start to cross the space Stiles limps the first few steps. His father and Scott both ask if his leg is hurt, but he says no, it’s fine. It doesn’t hurt when he steps, but it’s a hard instinct to ignore. The June sun outside is rising with little cloud coverage to dim it. Stiles remembers that it’s Monday. 

“Hey, how did you find us?” 

“When I came home,” the Sheriff starts, “I knocked on your door and no one answered. When I went in you were gone and the window was broken. I called Scott.” 

“Whoever that was, they were hiding their scent. That’s why we couldn’t identify them originally.” Scott sounds slightly ashamed. “It was Cora that figured it out; she finally recognized the smell. Magic.” 

Evil Bitch. “The woman in there, she was holding Derek back on that fence without touching him.” There was also that weird electricity Stiles felt when she was near him, but again, he figures he’ll save that information for later, when they’re with Deaton. 

The cruiser is parked haphazardly across a gravel lot, alone besides Chris’s SUV, which is pulling out on to the street. Stiles can’t help but stare at it as it drives away. 

“Hey,” Scott says, opening the passenger door for him, “he’ll be fine.” 

Stiles forces a smile. “Yeah, I know.” The problem is that Stiles knows _exactly_ how much pain he’s in, which is horrible but also strangely comforting. For the moment he just sits in the cruiser and tells himself that every minute passing is one minute closer to seeing Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the wait! Hope it's worth it ;)


	24. Chapter 24

Stile’s exhaustion catches up with him on the ride to the hospital. He tries to stay awake but only lasts a minute in the car, suddenly being woken up by Scott in the parking lot. The three of them make their way across the lot to the door. They’re almost there when Stiles feels the phantom pain from Derek’s wound spike, taking his breath away, and he has to stop walking. 

Scott is at his side in an instant, catching him when he wavers. “Whoa, Stiles, what’s-“ 

“I’m fine, it’s no-“ Stiles’ dismissal is cut off by his own surprised grunt of pain. It’s getting worse by the second, little tendrils of fire seeping up and down his calf, originating from one point midway. A few moments later it crescendos, and Stiles starts to waiver again and see little spots in his vision, but immediately after the pain is gone. Stiles didn’t remember closing his eyes, but he opens them now to two worried faces. 

“What was that?” Not only does the Sheriff sound worried, he sounds exasperated. 

“I’m not exactly sure?” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the truth either. Deaton must have treated the wolfsbane in Derek’s wound, and now it’s healing. But that’s not something he wants to explain to his father right now. _Oh, yeah, Dad, Derek and I made out last night for like two hours and now we have some sort of mystical bond and I can feel his pain. No biggie._

The look in the Sheriff’s eyes says he knows Stiles is holding something back. “Look, can we wait until we go to Deaton’s to talk about this?” The Sheriff looks to Scott, still mostly supporting Stiles, who gives him a small nod. He sighs. 

“Alright, fine, come on.” The Sheriff leads Stiles and Scott in to the hospital. 

 

 

“You’re lucky you didn’t get a concussion.” Melissa is wiping off the dried blood coming from his temple. “Do you have any idea how long you were unconscious?” 

Stiles tries to remember. “Probably less than an hour?” 

“Hmm. Okay,” she sets the cloth aside, “Scott, help him get his shirt off.” Stiles is about to protest, but the second he lifts his arms up he feels his ribs scream in protest. Scott comes forward from the chair he had been sitting in, next to the Sheriff, who is looking a lot more relaxed now. Stiles knows he trusts Melissa more than almost anyone. 

Once his shirt is off Scott rubs his arm before returning to his seat. Stiles can tell Scott’s on edge seeing him in pain, but if he uses his pain mojo Melissa won’t be able to tell if his ribs are broken. 

Melissa asks him how far he can raise his arms, which isn’t very far. She gently prods his ribs, feeling and counting each one to see where the problems are. They feel mostly sore, like they’re bruised, until she gets to a spot on his left side that has him gasping. “Almost done.” She hits a couple more bad spots, and then Scott is back helping him into his shirt “Well, there are two on the left that are probably fractured. The rest a little banged and bruised. Nothing time and rest won’t heal. You’ll have some bad bruises on your chest for a few weeks, but you’ll be fine.” She gives Stiles a warm smile. 

Melissa’s attention shifts to the Sheriff. “So,” she starts with a coy smile, “what story am I telling Dr. Sholton to get him a prescription?” 

Stiles doesn’t expect the smile his father gives her in return. “Melissa, you know that God cursed me with the clumsiest child on the planet. I mean, tripping over his own feet is one thing. But two flights of stairs?” 

 

The Doctor isn’t too busy so it takes less time than Stiles thought to get the prescription and be done at the hospital. Stiles is anxious when they step back in the cruiser and head to Deaton’s. He’s happily surprised at how well his father has handled this so far, but he has no idea what to expect at the clinic. This time, he stays awake. 

Scott must have texted Deaton, or someone, because the Veterinarian is waiting at the back door to the clinic. He gives his tight smile when they approach and leads them to the examination room, where Derek is sitting on the table. Stiles can’t help coming immediately to Derek’s side, and taking the hand that reaches out to him. 

Scott conferences with Kira quietly for a few seconds, and then she leaves out the back door, giving Stiles a quick smile on her way out.

“Are they broken?” Derek looks worried, and gestures to Stiles’ ribs. 

“A couple. Mostly bruised, though. Can you, uh,” Stiles shifts a little, feeling awkward, “ _feel_ that?” 

“A little. Less now than before.” At the thought of ‘before’, when Crazy Nymph Queen was inflicting the pain, Derek’s hand tenses. 

“Uh,” Stiles’ father says behind him, and Stiles had forgotten the other people in the room. Cora is in a corner very obviously trying not to laugh. Isaac and Scott are smirking at the two of them. Even Deaton looks amused. Stiles’ father is the only one who doesn’t. “Care to explain?” He gestures to the two of them. 

“Oh, um, well, Dad we-“ 

“Stiles.” The Sheriff is pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not that. Your leg.” 

“Oh!” Stiles tries to banish the blush creeping up his neck. “Right, that.” He searches his mind for a place to start, and comes up blank. “Actually, I was hoping Deaton would have an explanation.” 

Attention in the room shifts from Stiles and Derek to Deaton, who is now full on smirking in their direction. “Stiles, we’ve known for quite a while now that you contain a Spark. That’s the reason you are able to handle the mountain ash so effectively.”

Stiles remembers Deaton using that word, back when they were trying to trap Jackson in the club with the mountain ash. Spark. “But what exactly does that mean?”

For once, Deaton is direct. “Magic. It’s partly genetic, partly random. The Druids all carry Sparks, passed down from parent to child. It’s called a spark because it’s untrained, unkindled.”

“Sweet,” Scott says from his side, reaching out a fist, which Stiles dutifully bumps. “Does that mean with training Stiles could learn to use actual magic?” 

“Most likely. Now, it seems that the Spark is stronger than I first assumed.” Deaton is looking at Stiles with something in his eyes, almost like pride. 

“I’m sorry, I’m still not following.” The Sheriff sounds gruff, and Stiles looks back to his father, feeling a little guilty. 

Deaton doesn’t move to speak right away, so Stiles takes a breath and gets it out there. “Back in the warehouse, one of those assholes shot Derek in the leg. And I felt it.” Stiles becomes the focus of wide eyes form everyone in the room, except for Deaton who is back to being purposefully expressionless, and Derek who is intensely focused, giving him and small nod and his hand a squeeze. “It felt like it was me who had been shot. For a minute, before I looked down at my leg, I thought it was.” Stiles turns his attention to Derek. “I felt it when Deaton treated it too. We were walking into the hospital and I almost dropped in the middle of the parking lot.” 

Derek frowns. “Sorry.” The reply makes Stiles snort. Of _course_ Derek would apologize. 

After a pause, Derek speaks, directed more toward Deaton than anyone else. “I felt Stiles’ ribs too. Every kick.” Derek’s eyes flash electric blue for less than a second. 

“How?” It’s Isaac who asks, but it’s on everyone’s mind. 

Stiles sees Deaton sigh for the first time in the years he’s known the man. “My best guess is that a bond has somehow been born between the two of them, with Stiles’ spark acting as a sort of conduit.” 

“Like an anchor?” Scott asks. 

Deaton nods. “Similar, but not exactly.” 

Cora steps out of her corner. “People are bad anchors.” She’s frowning, like she’s concerned, but for who Stiles doesn’t know.

“It wasn’t a choice,” Deaton continues, “it was subconscious. Stiles, have you been restless lately, trouble sleeping or eating?” 

Stiles tries not to look at his father. “Well, yeah. But I figured that had more to do with the whole demonic possession thing.” Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles sees both Scott and the Sheriff flinch. “Also, it’s been getting better.” Derek’s mouth twitches into an involuntary micro-smile.

“Hmm. It could be that those feelings were amplified by your Spark being… unsettled. And that the bond you seem to have formed would surface during extreme duress is not surprising.” 

Everyone is silent for a few seconds, processing the information. 

“This just keeps getting more and more bizarre, huh?” Stiles looks up to meet his father’s eyes and is relieved to see the smile on his face. Isaac chuckles quietly. The Sheriff turns to the Vet. “Just to be clear, this isn’t dangerous, is it?” 

“Not that I know of. But I am no expert in these sorts of bonds.” 

Stiles perks up. “That sounds like a challenge to me.” As the resident researcher he’s definitely ready to accept it, and considering how much physical activity he can do with two broken ribs, he’ll have plenty of time. He realizes then that someone is missing. “Wait, where’s Lydia?” 

Cora laughs, bit it’s Scott who answers, looking mildly ashamed. “Ah, she probably just got to school.”

“And she’s not happy about it.” Isaac looks pretty amused as well. Stiles will definitely have to call her at lunch. 

Another silence descends upon the group. It all makes a weird kind of sense to Stiles. He remembers something about last night that he had originally written off. “So, is physical pain the only thing that we... share? Or are there other things, too?” 

Deaton quirks his eyebrow. “What kinds of things?” 

“Feelings, emotions.” Stiles swore that last night he could not only feel his own happiness and arousal but, now that he thinks about it, Derek’s as well. 

“It’s possible,” Deaton says, and Derek shoots Cora a look when she snickers from behind him, but Stiles pays no attention. “I’m sure the bond is more intricate than you know it to be now.”

Stiles looks down to where his and Derek’s hand are still intertwined, then up to Derek’s eyes. “Sorry.” Stiles tries to play it off jokingly with a small smile, but a tiny bit of him is feeling pretty anxious. All they did was make out for a while, Derek didn’t asked to be magically bonded to him, and Stiles is hoping it’s not freaking him out. 

When Derek answers his smile with a dazzling one of his own, Stiles lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “You don’t half ass anything, do you?” There’s something like admiration in Derek’s eyes, and for the second time in 15 minutes, Stiles forgets there are other people in the room.

“No way, I’m just a full ass kind of-“ Cora cuts Stiles off with a series of loud gagging noises, and Stiles looks around for something to throw at her. Unfortunately they’re in a veterinary clinic, which is filled with small sharp things, and Stiles isn’t known for his amazing aim, so he resists the urge. 

Scott puts his hand on Stiles’ arm. “You should get home, get some rest.” Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles sees the Sheriff smile the tiniest of smiles at that. 

“You too, Derek.” Cora has her arms crossed. She still looks pretty stressed, and Stiles can’t imagine how worried she must have been. Stiles wishes Derek would come to the house with him, but knows both the Sheriff and Cora wouldn’t allow it. 

“Come see me tomorrow?” Stiles asks, and when Derek nods something in Stiles’ belly flips. He thinks about leaning down and kissing him in front of everyone, but decides against it, instead squeezing his hand. “Okay,” he turns to his father, “let’s go.” 

Deaton walks Stiles and his father to the back door. “Stiles,” Deaton starts, that look of almost pride back in his eyes, “when you’re feeling better, come see me.” 

“Sure thing, Doc.” If Stiles could start to learn real magic, maybe he could use it to protect the pack. The prospect makes his fingers tingle with eagerness. 

On the ride home Stiles texts Lydia to call him at lunch. He figures Scott made her stay home, and then go to school, to protect her. Stiles would tell Scott how backwards that is himself, if he wasn’t sure Lydia will soon enough. 

He doesn’t fall asleep on the ride home, but he definitely zones out, because the next thing he knows they’re pulling into the driveway. The Sheriff opens the passenger door and extends his hand. Stiles attempts to get out of the seat without it but soon gives up and lets his father help him. It seems the full pain of his ribs is starting to catch up to him. 

The Sheriff walks Stiles all the way up the stairs and straight in to bed, with no complaints from Stiles. He leaves him to change out of the slightly grimy clothes and into fresh sweats, but comes back a minute later with a glass of water and a couple of pills. 

“Melatonin. Hopefully those ribs don’t keep you up too much, I’ll go to the pharmacy and fill your prescription in a little while.” Stiles is grateful, and quickly downs the glass. “You going to be okay if I go do some errands?” 

Stiles has to hold back the look he wants to give his father, remembering that he was literally kidnapped the last time he was home without him. “Yeah, dad, go ahead. I’m just gonna pass out.”

The Sheriff gives his son a nod and a tight smile before leaving the room, but not shutting the door completely. Stiles lays down, sets an alarm on his phone for 12:05 in case Lydia’s call doesn’t wake him, and promptly falls asleep. The gods take pity on him, and he does not dream.


	25. Chapter 25

Stiles wakes up feeling the most energized he’s felt in a while. It’s a couple minutes before noon, so he shuts off the alarm he had set for himself, and sits up in bed, waiting for Lydia to call.

She doesn’t keep him waiting long. “Hey,” he answers on the first ring. 

“Hi, how are you feeling?” Stiles still isn’t used to the sound of Lydia actively worrying about him. 

“I’m fine, a little sore.” Any minor shift exacerbates the injury, but if he sits still, it’s a duller pain. “I take it Scott told you everything, then.” 

“Most of it, yeah. I’m glad you’re both okay.” 

“Thanks, me too.” What happened was already bad enough, if Derek had been more seriously hurt… Stiles doesn’t know what he would do with himself. 

“So,” Lydia starts, her voice raising it pitch slightly, “when were you planning on telling me about you and Derek?” 

Stiles can already feel a blush creeping up his neck. “Well, I didn’t exactly get a chance to, considering we were both kidnapped out of my bed about 6 hours later.”

“Out of your bed, you say?” Lydia’s tone is half teasing and half curious. “I’m impressed.” 

Stiles’ blush intensifies. “Okay, not like that, we were just sleeping. And cuddling. Innocently cuddling.” 

Lydia hums, sounding disappointed. “That’s not very exciting.” 

“Oh believe me, it was exciting.” Stiles can barely control himself just thinking about it now. Pinned up against his door, Derek’s hands on his neck and back… 

“Details.” Lydia’s voice brings him back to reality.

Stiles chuckles into the phone at her eagerness. “I don’t know, we were just sitting on my couch talking and, I won’t tell you exactly what it was about because it’s kind of Derek’s thing, but he was kind of… putting himself down, a little, I guess?”

“Not incredibly out of character, then.” 

“No, but it irritated me, and I sort of started ranting about how he’s a good person and he’s worth caring about and all that and then… I’m pretty sure he kissed me.”

“Wow.” Lydia actually sounds surprised. “So, tell me Stiles, what was it like, kissing Derek Hale?” 

Up to this point Stiles had lost most of his blush, but now he knows that his blood would all rush back to his face, if it weren’t already caught up somewhere else. “Scott told you about the bond, right?” 

That seems to take her off guard. “Yeah, a little, though I’m not sure I really understand.” 

“Well, last night when we were, well, making out, not only was I turned on as fuck,” which is the understatement of the year, truthfully, “but I could almost feel how turned on _he_ was. But I didn’t realize that was actually what I was feeling until this morning.” 

“That is… intense.” 

“Yeah, and also just about the sexiest—“ 

At that exact moment a knock comes at the door that makes Stiles jump. Not a second later the Sheriff pokes his head in the door. “Jesus Christ, Dad.” 

“Sorry, kid. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Lydia is full on laughing into her phone. “I just made some sandwiches, whenever you want to eat. Wasn’t sure if you felt up to walking downstairs.” 

“Yeah, okay, I’ll be down in a minute.” The Sheriff closes the door again, and Stiles has the urge to flop forward and cover his face, but doesn’t, because he’s sure the two broken ribs wouldn’t appreciate that very much. “Sorry Lydia, gotta go eat lunch.”

“Have fun.” Stiles can practically hear the smirk in her voice. “If you want, I can stop by later with school stuff from today. It’s mostly test prep.” 

“That would be awesome. Sorry Scott made you go.” 

“Ha! Don’t get me started. We’ll be having words.” Stiles smiles, eternally grateful for how his and Lydia’s story played out. They say their goodbyes and Stiles takes on the arduous task of getting out of bed and down the stairs. Originally he thought eating in his room was silly, but once he’s actually in the kitchen and his chest feels like a deflated football, he understands. His father gives him a knowing grimace. 

Thankfully though he doesn’t try to manhandle Stiles into the chair. Once he’s seated in front of a promising looking turkey sandwich and glass of water, the Sheriff sets a pill bottle down in front of him. “You can take one when you’re done eating. They’ll probably also make you tired, so be careful. Don’t—“

“Don’t take it unless I need it, and don’t take it on an empty stomach, never take more than two, yes, I got it.” Stiles smiles up at his father, who rolls his eyes, seeming to say how on earth did I raise such a smart ass?

The Sheriff takes the seat across from Stiles while he digs into the sandwich. “Now, there are a couple of things we need to talk about.” Stiles freezes, a half-chewed bite still in his mouth, and narrows his eyes at his father.

Stiles finishes chewing, takes a big gulp of water, and nods for the Sheriff to continue. “First off, you can skip school tomorrow, but after that you have finals so you have to go. I don’t want you driving yourself the last three days, so have someone pick you up, doesn’t matter who.” Stiles breathes a little easier. At first he thought his father meant they had to talk about—

“And then there’s Derek.” Shit. He freezes up again. “Relax, kid. I’m not mad, or anything. He’s not exactly who I would pick for you, but that’s not really my choice. I also wish you would have told me. Not that I couldn’t have guessed—“

“I didn’t have a chance to tell anyone!” Stiles yells, and yeah he feels a little guilty about it a second later, but sheesh, why does everyone assume he’s been keeping secrets? He’s proud as hell about it. The Sheriff raises his eyebrows at his son. “Sorry, Lydia just said the same thing, but it only just happened last night.” Thinking about ‘last night’ in front of his father prompts Stiles to take another bite of his sandwich as a distraction. 

“Regardless, we need to set up some ground rules.” Stiles nods, his mouth still full of sandwich. Ground rules he can deal with. “First off, I will pretend I don’t hear Derek coming and going through your window, if you can promise he’ll use the front door at least half the time.” Stiles blushes at his father’s implication. “I understand that you’re turning eighteen in a month,” Stiles raises an imaginary fist in the air, “but you’re still my kid. I will try to be reasonable if you can respect that.” 

“Of course, dad.” Not for the first time, Stiles silently thanks the heavens that he has a father as understanding as the Sheriff. Since he’d found out about all this werewolf stuff, it’s like he’s become even more open minded. It’s nice to feel like Stiles has his father’s trust again. 

The Sheriff nods, but his expression tightens minutely. “I’m only just a little worried about this whole bond thing.”

If he’s being totally honest, Stiles is too. He’s only just allowed himself to even have these feelings about Derek, which scared the shit out of him originally, and this is a whole new level of scary. But he’s not worried about Derek. “Trust me, the last person you need to worry about hurting me is Derek.”

“I do trust you.” Stiles’ father smiles, and it’s genuine, but there’s still a hesitancy around his eyes. Overthinking is definitely a dominant Stilinski gene, but Stiles can’t blame the Sheriff. He just wants what’s best and safest for his kid. 

The Sheriff gets up and starts to walk out of the kitchen when Stiles stops him. “Oh, Lydia said she would come over later, bring me some test prep stuff I missed at school.” 

“Alright, just make sure you’re not over working yourself.” Another tight smile, and Stiles’ father heads down the hall to his office, closing the door. Stiles is sure there’s a lot of paper work needed to be done, a lot of stories to be made up about what happened this morning. For a brief moment he feels guilty about the burden he’s placed on his father. 

He looks at the bottle of pills in front of him for a few seconds, mentally debates, and ends up taking one anyway.

Stiles tries not to dwell on any guilt, knowing it’ll only lead down dark roads, and finishes his lunch while messing around on his phone. It seems strange to him that nothing much has changed in the last 24 hours in the grand scheme of things, but for him so much has happened. Like Derek leaning forward on the couch and kissing him, and everything that followed afterward, shifted his whole perspective. To be honest, it’s not an entirely different feeling than when he found out about werewolves. Impossible things will do that to you. 

Instead of braving the stairs again Stiles settles on the couch, turning on the Game Show Network with a low volume. Eventually he falls asleep, most likely a combination of his existing fatigue and the medicine kicking in. 

Stiles wakes up a few hours later and realizes he has yet to shower. It makes him feel pretty gross, and he has just enough time to do so before Lydia gets out of school and makes her way over. It takes a minute to get himself up off the couch, even though the pain meds he took earlier have definitely dulled the pain considerably. Stiles knocks on his father’s office door and tells him he’s getting in the shower, which is met with a distracted hum from inside. 

Unfortunately Stiles, again, underestimates how annoying it is to have two broken ribs. He gets the water going easy enough, but undressing proves a challenge. It takes a lot of shuffling and complete avoidance of raising his arms but eventually he gets it done. 

The hot water and steam feel amazing and do a great deal to relax the muscles in his back. He caught a look at the bruising both there and on his ribs in the mirror. Not pretty. The worst thing about it is that Derek will most definitely not be pushing him up against any doors any time soon. 

Once Stiles lets open the floodgates of ‘thoughts about Derek’ there’s no shutting it again. The shower moves quickly out of the realm of relaxing, and Stiles starts to feel the blood in his body rushing, making his fingertips tingle. Arousal blossoms in him and his hands move down to his dick of their own volition. 

It’s been forever since he’s done this, since he’s touched himself, so he doesn’t last very long. That doesn’t make the feeling any less glorious. All he can think about is Derek, Derek’s hands on his back and waist, Derek’s breath on his neck. When he’s done and cleaned up he steps out of the shower and feels strangely whole again. 

After that it’s not long before Lydia shows up. They do spend a good amount of time studying, going over the material she brought, but eventually they end up in front of Stiles’ laptop, curled up on the couch. Well, as curled up as Stiles can be. Lydia complains about wanting to watch Kimmy Schmidt, but Stiles refuses to do it without Isaac. 

“Well then let’s get Isaac here.” She says matter-of-factly, and has the wolf on the phone within seconds. 

Stiles can’t find it in himself to complain. “Tell him to bring food.” Lydia smiles at that and relays the message.

“He said he would be here in 15.” Lydia sounds endlessly pleased with herself. “With Lee’s.” 

True to his word Isaac arrives with mounds of food with three minutes to spare. The Sheriff tries to look at the group disapprovingly but snags a plate of Lo Mein while he thinks Stiles isn’t watching. 

Lydia and Isaac stay for a few hours, cozied up on the couch on either side of Stiles. The pills he took earlier start to wear off, but Isaac quickly places a hand on his bare arm and takes care of the pain. It’s obviously more comfortable, but more than that, he feels warm inside being reminded of how great his friends are. 

The Sheriff comes to the room around 8, reminding Stiles he should be getting as much rest as possible. Lydia and Isaac take the hint, and as they’re walking out the door, Scott walks slightly sheepishly up the porch. He doesn’t have to explain himself though, at least not to Stiles. 

They walk into the house and up the stairs. The Sheriff doesn’t say anything, knowing he’s powerless to keep Scott away. They get up to his room and Stiles closes the door and turns back to Scott but before he knows it he’s enveloped in a strong but gentle hug. Again he feels the pain ebb out of him. They stay that way for a few moments, and when Scott pulls away they’re both smiling at each other. 

Stiles knows that whatever happens in his life they’ll always have this. He’ll always have Scott. 

Scott doesn’t stay for too long, but he makes Stiles lay down, and they talk. Not about what happened that morning or even about Derek. They have the kind of conversations that only best friends of years can have. By the time Scott leaves out the broken window and Stiles takes another one of his pills, conveniently left on his bedside with a glass of water by his father, Stiles feels at peace. 

There’s still a part of him that wants to see Derek, that feels cold in the bed by himself, but Derek promised he would come tomorrow, and for tonight it’s enough. 

 

Stiles sleeps the longest he has slept in months (thank God for prescription pain medication). By the time he gets out of bed and in to the shower it’s already noon, and his stomach is raising a riot. Unfortunately the Sheriff had to go to work early this morning, so Stiles is left to fend for himself for breakfast. He fires up a couple of toaster pastries and settles in on the couch. After a while he gets bored of just watching TV and grabs some of the flash cards Lydia had helped him make over the last few weeks. 

Despite all of the school he’s missed due to the crap going on this year, Stiles feels mostly confident about his finals. After Scott was falling so far behind everyone really stepped up to help him, which made Stiles become a better student himself. It reminded him of what the pack was really all about; making each other better, pushing them all to be the best they can be. 

As the hours pass Stiles becomes more and more distracted. Derek had said he would come today, but he hadn’t said when, and Stiles has yet to text or call him. He wants to know, and he definitely wants it to be soon, but he also doesn’t want to seem too clingy. I mean, sure, they’re magically bound now, but still. Nobody wants to be clingy. 

Stiles gives it another couple of hours, until his father is home and it’s time to eat dinner and he still hasn’t heard from or seen Derek. He’s not worried necessarily, but it feels off, for some reason. Throughout their meal Stiles is distracted and it doesn’t escape the notice of the Sheriff, but his father doesn’t pry. While Stiles is taking his dishes to the sink, he hears a knock on the door, and the tension bleeds out of him. 

Stiles rushes to the door and pulls it open with a smile on his face. Sure enough, Derek stands outside, hands in his jacket pocket, hair slightly damp from the drizzle. His expression is tight, though, and not what Stiles was expecting. His smile falters.

Stiles steps aside, giving Derek room to enter the house, but Derek doesn’t move, just looks down at his feet. “Are you gonna come in?” The off feeling comes back to Stiles, pushes his stomach in little circles. 

“I can’t stay for long.” Derek doesn’t sound like himself. He sounds like Derek from two years ago. Empty. 

“What’s wrong?” Stiles steps out on the porch and closes the door behind him. It’s cold and wet outside, but Stiles doesn’t really want his father in on this conversation, and Derek doesn’t seem like he’s going to come inside. The chill and the unease causes him to cross his arms. Despite that, he takes a step closer to Derek, reflexively wanting to be closer. 

Derek steps back. Stiles’ stomach drops. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Derek’s still looking down at his feet, not meeting Stiles’ eyes. 

“You don’t think _what_ is a good idea?” Irritation seeps into Stiles’ tone. 

Derek’s eyes snap up to Stiles, his chin raised in confidence. “This. Us.” His hand comes up to sharply motion between the two of them. “What happened between us was a mistake.” 

“Bullshit.” The word comes immediately without any need for consideration from Stiles. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.” 

Stiles raises his voice, but Derek keeps his low and calm. “It’s not. It’s the truth. It was a moment of weakness on my part, and it won’t happen again.” 

“What the hell does that mean, a moment of weakness?” Stiles throws his arms out. It starts raining in earnest, and his step toward Derek earlier brought him out of the cover of the porch. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Derek’s maintaining eye contact but his eyes are empty, void. It sends a chill down Stiles’ spine. 

“You can’t lie to me. I know how you felt the other night. I _felt_ how you felt.” 

“And where did that get us, huh?” Showing the first hint of emotion, Derek raises his voice, and scoffs. “Where did that get you?” 

“I don’t…” Stiles is immensely confused. “What are you-“ 

Derek casts his eyes down again. “The people close to me get hurt." 

Stiles’ chest hurts, and not because of his ribs. “Derek, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” When Derek meets Stiles’ eye again, the emotion is gone. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s over.” 

“You don’t have to do this.” The rain is soaking through Stiles’ shirt and dripping down his face, so much so he almost doesn’t notice his own eyes watering. “It doesn’t have to be like this.” 

“Yes, it does.” Derek takes a few steps backward, his shoes sloshing in the water. “Goodbye, Stiles.” He turns and heads down the walkway toward the street. 

Stiles steps forward and catches Derek by the shoulder, but it’s immediately shrugged off as Derek takes off running. The further he gets, the greater the feeling Stiles has that Derek’s taking a part of him off with him. Moments later he’s alone, wet, and cold. 

Stiles numbly walks back up the porch and opens the door. The Sheriff walks in from the kitchen and sees his son dripping wet in the doorway. “Stiles? Where’s Derek?” 

“He’s gone.” Stiles doesn’t meet his father’s eye, just stands there and stares at the ground. 

The Sheriff leaves for a moment and comes back with a towel, which Stiles accepts. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No,” Stiles says as he takes off his shoes and dries off his hair, “I just want to go to bed.” The Sheriff pats him on the back and stays there until Stiles is done with the towel. He gives his father a weak smile before he climbs the stairs to his room, hoping he can change in to some dry clothes, take some pain medication, and pass out, so he doesn’t have to think about what just happened, or that he has to go to school tomorrow, and tell all of his friends about it, and deal with pack meetings and awkward glances and pity. 

Of course, because it’s Stiles’ life, it doesn’t work out that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops ;)


	26. Chapter 26

Though he takes his medication before bed, Stiles has nightmares that night. Bad ones. It had been months since he had dreamt of Allison, Boyd, and Erica, and he sees them all that night. He has visions of the Nogitsune piling bodies up on the Nemeton. There is a cold absence that follows him everywhere he goes. He wakes up early the next morning with a cold sweat, cursing the still-broken window. 

Figuring there’s no way he can go back to sleep Stiles decides to get up and shower. What had done wonders for him yesterday now seems bland in comparison. His ribs don’t hurt too badly, the medication from the night before just wearing off, but the sensation of the hot water is somehow dulled. Stiles puts on his warmest flannel and hoodie, and still can’t seem to get warm. 

By the time he’s downstairs and making breakfast it’s only 6:00. The Sheriff makes his way down while Stiles is eating his cocoa puffs and gives his son the bleary nod-and-grunt combo, which is Stilinski for ‘I know you’re here, but I’m not awake enough to talk yet’. It’s perfectly fine with Stiles; he doesn’t really feel like talking. 

After he’s done with breakfast he rinses his bowl out and retreats to his room. There’s something unappealing about sitting at the kitchen table with his father right now. He still has over a half hour before Scott is supposed to pick him up for school. He’s deciding what to do with the time when a soft knock comes through his door. A few seconds later Scott’s head pokes through the door. 

“You’re early.” They don’t usually get to school until 7:00, and that’s still plenty of time to make the bell. Scott isn’t one to be early. 

“Am I? It’s 6:50.” 

Stiles reaches for his phone in his sweatshirt pocket, and sure enough, Scott is right. Shit. Stiles doesn’t remember the last time he lost time like that (no pun intended). He must have just been sitting there the past thirty minutes. There’s also a text from Scott at 6:45 assuring he was on his way. 

“Stiles, are you okay?” Scott sits down on the bed. “Your dad told me when I came in… something happened with Derek?” 

Stiles can’t help the bitter chuckle that comes out of his mouth. First, he and Derek get kidnapped within six hours of even kissing for the first time, then everyone else finds out about the bond just as they do. Now he and Derek are… whatever the hell they are, and it’s everyone else’s business. He knows that his father and Scott are just trying to help, but it’s frustrating to feel like he has no privacy anymore. 

The bitterness only lasts a moment, and then Stiles looks over at Scott and feels weighed down. He doesn’t know where to start. “He came over last night and basically told me that he doesn’t want to see me… like that, anymore.” 

Scott’s eyebrows pull together. “I don’t understand.” 

He doesn’t elaborate, and the focused concern starts to get under Stiles’ skin, just a little. “Frankly, neither do I. Look I don’t really want to talk about this. We should get going.” 

Scott nods and pats Stiles’ back a couple times. Stiles can tell the lack of physical contact is making the alpha just that much more worried, so he pats Scott back (as much as he can without raising his arms too high). Scott seems placated for the moment and stands up, leading the way down the stairs, out the door, and to his mom’s car. Melissa had let him borrow it to take Stiles, having Scott drop her off at work on his way over. At the time Stiles had felt bad but he realized later that Scott wasn’t about to let anyone else take him to school. Scott felt like he needed to protect his friend, his pack mate, and Stiles wasn’t about to take that away from him. 

Scott doesn’t mention anything about Derek for the whole ride to school, and only shoots pitying and worried looks toward Stiles two times on their walk from the parking lot to Stiles’ first period, which Stiles knows is evidence of his alpha exerting his self-control. 

Throughout his first period Stiles has trouble focusing. His thoughts start out at _anything but Derek_. Which of course leads them straight to _everything about Derek_. He starts to worry about what this means for the whole pack, whether they will all still be able to be close after this. 

Because the thing is, Derek is a good person. Stiles is hurt and pissed off and a whole jumble of things he hasn’t really figured out yet, and it may be Derek’s fault. But that doesn’t mean he’s any less worthy of the pack than he was yesterday morning. Stiles is worried that people will hold it against Derek, or that Cora will hold something against _him_ , and the pack will be unstable. Of course it’s up to Stiles to fuck everything up when they’ve just got it all worked out. 

The rest of the period and the classes afterward follow a similar pattern. By the time lunch rolls around Stiles has himself so worked up about what his friends are going to say that when he sits down everyone immediately feels the tension. There are a few moments of silence while Stiles tries to calm himself down, and possibly come up with something to say. 

“Stiles,“ Lydia says, and if it were anyone else at the table, Stiles probably would have yelled something, with how strung up he was. Instead he sighs and takes a deep breath, looks her in the eye, and waits for her to continue. Lydia reaches her hand across the table and sets it on one of arms, crossed in front of him. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But if you do, we’re here.” 

Breaking eye contact with Lydia, Stiles looks down at the sad hamburger and fries in front of him. “I would really like to just forget that the last three days ever happened.” Ignoring the problem until it goes away is Stiles’ favorite coping mechanism, and he intends to stick to it. 

“Alright.” Lydia gives his arm a quick squeeze and then retracts her hand. With a flick of her hair, she gracefully changes the subject. “That English ‘final’ was a joke, by the way.” 

“Did you really just use finger quotes?” Judgement seeps into Isaac’s tone, and lunch goes on smoothly after that. Stiles silently thanks God, once again, for Lydia Martin. 

 

The chemistry test is hard, but Stiles was prepared for it, thankfully. Oddly it helps him focus, and almost brings him up and out of his slump. Scott gives him a smile as they exit the room and Stiles heads to ceramics. 

Instead of taking his anger and frustration out on the clay, Stiles channels all of his energy into being delicate. He carefully carves a bouquet of roses on to a sgraffito platter, taking off the top layer of black glaze and revealing the bright white clay underneath. Stiles finishes just before the period ends, and leaves the room actually excited to see it eventually come out of the kiln. It helps, having something to look forward to. 

By the time he meets Scott back at the car he could almost say he was happy. Or at least at peace for the moment. Scott can definitely tell, either by his chemosignals or because he knows Stiles so well. The ride back to Stiles’ house stands in pretty stark contrast to the ride to school this morning. At one point Stiles punches Scott’s shoulder, which prompts Scott to yell “you don’t punch the driver!” and lands them in a giggling fit because _Horrible Bosses_ is a great movie. 

When Scott pulls in to the driveway he offers to come over and hang out for a few hours. Stiles thinks about it, but eventually declines. “It’s cool, thanks, though. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Scott seems surprised, but evidently not worried. “Yeah, see you.” Because he’s Scott, he waits to drive away until Stiles has unlocked the door and stepped inside. 

While Stiles definitely feels better, he’s still afraid it won’t last. He immediately starts to go over his notes and essays for English, even though Lydia said the test was a joke. After that he studies for math and history, but that only gets him so far, considering he’s already gone over everything he has. When he’s finished with that he wanders around the house for a while looking for things to do. In his bedroom his eyes land on the guitar, propped up in a corner. 

He stands in front of it for a couple minutes, considering. Eventually he picks it up and sits on his bed. Stiles starts running through the song he had been working on – _Gone, Gone, Gone_ – but it doesn’t feel right. He messes up a few times in the intro, and when he gets to the part where he’s supposed to start singing, it’s a struggle to get the words out. Stiles just isn’t feeling it. 

The whole point of distracting himself like this was to keep him from thinking about Derek, but apparently it was inevitable, because that’s exactly where his mind goes. The pain in Stiles’ ribs flares up again and he has the sudden urge to smash the guitar to pieces. But he doesn’t, because it’s not Delilah’s fault (what, Stiles has a penchant for naming important inanimate objects, definitely not the weirdest thing about him. Just ask Roscoe). It’s Derek’s fault. 

Derek who is so goddamn stubborn he can’t understand that they could have had a good thing. Stiles goes back and forth thinking that in some twisted way Derek is just trying to protect him, that he’s got some kind of complex trust issues with himself and that he really does care about Stiles, and thinking that Derek really just regrets kissing him and doesn’t want anything to do with him or his freaky magic bond. His piss-poor self-esteem is betting on the latter. But it’s not like he can just call him up and ask, so all there is for Stiles to do is sit here and stew in it. 

Stiles decides to abandon _Gone, Gone, Gone_ and find something more appropriate to play. And he knows just the song. 

 

By the time he’s figured out the basic arrangement and is trying to practice the first third of the song, Stiles’ phone vibrates with a text from his father. _I won’t be able to make it for dinner. Sorry. Let you know when I’m coming home._

Stiles sighs. He had been looking forward to when his father came home, partly because it would be distracting. Working on the song had proved helpful, channeling his energy toward plucking the strings instead of thinking, but the whole action was still driven by Derek. 

Looking at the clock Stiles decides to go heat up some of the leftover Chinese Isaac had brought the other night. Thinking back to that night, curled up on the couch with him and Lydia, makes Stiles’ chest ache a little. Everything was on a precarious balance right now, and it had to tip some time. Eventually everything with him and Derek will come to the surface and they’ll have to find some way to deal with it. Just thinking about that stresses Stiles out, makes him feel tired. 

He thinks for a half second about calling Lydia or Isaac or Scott or anyone else in the pack, but immediately decides against it. Maybe, if he doesn’t bring it up and they don’t talk about it, he can postpone the implosion of the pack. 

The timer on the microwave dings and brings him back to reality. He takes his food, sits at the table, and eats in silence. 

Before Stiles knows it he’s done with his food. On autopilot Stiles rinses off his plate, then decides to just wash the dishes already sitting in the sink. There aren’t too many so it only takes a few minutes. 

As he’s drying off his hands a knock comes at the door. It had been so silent (except for the sound of the sink) that Stiles jumps a little. 

The last person he expects to be at the door is Cora. 

Her arms are crossed, all her body language defensive and slightly hostile – not that unusual for Cora at least – but the set of her eyebrows betrays her, and Stiles can tell she’s not angry. He tries to find something to say, but draws a blank. So much for ignoring the issue. 

They stand there for about three seconds, Cora outside putting up her front and Stiles inside with his mouth hanging open. Finally Cora speaks. “Can I come in?” She maintains eye contact as Stiles mumbles something resembling ‘yeah’ and steps aside. 

Cora walks down the hall a ways, stops at the end of the couch, and turns around. Stiles leaves the whole couch distance between them, leaning his arm on the back of it, and waits. It’s painful to watch her sort through what she wants to say in her head, her eyes downcast, so similar to what Stiles has come to expect from Derek. 

“Let me just start by saying, my brother is an idiot.” Cora meets Stiles’ eyes. Her brow is pinched up like she’s upset, which Stiles doesn’t understand. 

“Cora, you don’t have to—“ 

“Yes, I do.” In a fit of frustration Cora huffs and drops her crossed arms. “I don’t understand why everything has to be so complicated with him. Hell, you probably know more about Derek than I do, in some sense.” Stiles can’t help the blush that rises to his cheeks, hates his body for it. 

She takes a pause and Stiles blurts out, “Why are you here?” 

“Because my brother came home two days ago after being kidnapped and tortured with an aura of peace and happiness I haven’t seen on him in _years_ , and you did that, Stiles.” Cora steps forward and her voice raises as she speaks. “And yesterday? He wakes up bizarrely early, paces around the loft for hours, won’t say more than like three words to me. I saw him leave so I followed him.” 

Stiles’ ears burn with embarrassment at the thought of Cora hearing what Derek said to him yesterday. 

“When he led me here I left and went back home. I didn’t expect him to come back five minutes later and shut himself in his room. He hasn’t left since then. I don’t even know if he’s eating.” While she started out strong and angry, Cora’s tone drops to sad and desperate. 

Stiles crosses his own arms and drops his eyes. He doesn’t know what to say so he just waits for her to continue. 

“You may know Derek better than me, but I do know some things about him. I’m sure it wasn’t anything you said, at least not on purpose.” Her eyes are pleading for him to fill in the blanks. The last thing Stiles wants to do is explain everything to her, but it doesn’t look like he has any other options.

“He came here yesterday to tell me that he didn’t want to be with me. He said it was a mistake, alright?” Stiles is slightly afraid of how void his voice sounds. 

Cora nods and steps forward once again. She looks him solidly in the eye and asks, “Was it?” 

“No.” This time, Stiles’ voice is just a whisper. “But I can’t force him to be with me if he doesn’t want to.” 

“Stiles, listen to me. _He does_. My brother hasn’t shut up about you since the first time you came to help with the construction. He’s afraid to admit it, to himself even, but he’s been in love with you for months. If not longer.”

Stiles’ mind goes blank for a moment. It’s hard to comprehend. He’s spent the last few months denying everything, refusing to feel what he was feeling, and the whole time, Derek was… it doesn’t make sense.

Cora senses his doubt. “Do you remember the first time you played for us?”

“Yeah. _I’ll Follow You into the Dark._ ” 

“Do you remember how weird Derek acted afterward?” Stiles nods, remembering Derek running up to the bathroom right after, and then apologizing before they left. “When we got back to the loft that night I pestered him about it relentlessly. I knew there was something to it and I wouldn’t let it go. Want to know what he eventually told me?” 

For some reason, Stiles is afraid to know. He has the sudden idea that it’s going to be a tipping point, and there will be no going back after. Again, Stiles nods. 

“He said, ‘I think I’m falling in love with him.’ And then shut himself in his room and refused to talk to me about it.” Stiles’ eyes are watering and he curses himself for it, but Cora just crosses the last few feet between them and envelops him in her arms. “You can’t tell me he doesn’t want to be with you.” 

Everything seems so clear to him now. Stiles hugs Cora back and wipes at his eyes when she pulls away. “I need to get him back.”

Cora smiles at him. “And I’m here to help you do it.”


	27. Chapter 27

The next day finds Stiles on his way home from school in Melissa’s borrowed car, but this time it’s not just him and Scott. Isaac and Cora, who met them at the school, are in the back seat, and Lydia follows behind with Kira. 

“Stiles, will you please tell me what this is about?” Scott asks, and not for the first time. Last night, he and Cora decided they might not be able to plan this on their own. So today at lunch, Stiles announced they were having an emergency pack meeting at his house after school, and attendance was mandatory. Since then he has refused to explain the purpose of the meeting, partially because he’s been pretty down the past couple of days and it’s been cruelly fun to watch his friends squirm a little, but also because he’s afraid to talk about it without Cora there. If she hadn’t come over last night he doesn’t know how this would all end up, and he still doesn’t, but he knows now that he _has_ to try. 

“When we get to the house, and everyone is there, I will explain. I promise.” Scott’s look of worry doesn’t disappear, but he doesn’t mention it again. 

The cruiser is parked in the driveway when they pull up to Stiles’ house, so Scott and Lydia have to park on the street. The Sheriff had arrived last night right as Cora was leaving, wearing a confused look, as if he had expected her there just as much as Stiles originally had. He spent the next five minutes apologizing for being kept late at the station, which Stiles tried his best to stifle. 

When the group comes in to the house, with Stiles leading the way, the Sheriff is sitting at the kitchen table with a crossword. “Hey, dad, just so you know, we’re having an emergency pack meeting in the living room.”

The Sheriff looks up at his son with a look that says ‘I have zero idea what that entails’, and Stiles can’t help but chuckle. Cora comes up behind Stiles and gives his father a big smile. “Sorry to be a burden, Mr. Stilinski, but we’ve got some sensitive topics to discuss.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just continue this extremely important paperwork in my office.” He answers her smile and heads down the hall, stopping to muss up Stiles’ hair. Embarrassing. 

Stiles and Cora head back to the living room, where everyone has settled in on the couch and armchair. Cora goes to stand between the two and Stiles stands in front of the TV. Everyone’s eyes are on him while he takes a deep breath and begins. 

“I’m sorry for refusing to tell you guys why I wanted you here, so here it is; I need help.” 

“Anything.” Kira responds immediately and Stiles smiles involuntarily. Scott and Isaac lean forward minutely in their seats, as if there’s a threat that needs responding to. The whole pack, expect for Cora, look so worried, it’s almost funny. But the humor dissolves as Stiles tries to force the words out pertaining to the exact _kind_ of help he needs, and finds it very difficult. Thankfully Cora steps in for him. 

“Stiles needs our help to figure out how he’s going to get Derek back.”

Stiles’ eyes are downcast, suddenly afraid of the reaction he might get from his friends. No one says anything, and Stiles is not exactly patient, so he gives in and looks up at the group. They’re all smiling. Again, Stiles can’t help the small smile (and blush) that sneaks on to his face. 

It’s Lydia who breaks the silence. “I think I speak for us all when I say that it’s about time. But it might help, if you don’t mind, to know exactly… what happened.” 

Stiles tries not to let the memory or the retelling get to him too much. He explains how Derek showed up and exactly what he said. It’s slightly embarrassing, but the almost physical aura of support doesn’t allow that feeling for long. 

“I don’t want to go too far in to it, or to betray Derek’s trust,” Stiles continues, “but I know that Derek puts a certain level of responsibility for what happened to his family, and to Boyd and Erica, on himself.” It’s hard to look at Cora as he says this, but a quick glance in her direction shows she’s looking at the floor anyway. “I think that’s what he meant, that people close to him ‘get hurt’.” Stiles had only come to this realization after Cora left last night, after he knew for real about how Derek felt about him. He barely slept, and this time not because of nightmares. 

“And of course you get kidnapped the same night you get together.” Stiles, for some reason, appreciates the level of tragedy in Kira’s voice. It doesn’t sound like pity, but it’s validating. 

“What I don’t understand,” Isaac says, “is why he seemed completely into you at Deaton’s right after it happened, but then breaks it off the next day.” 

Stiles hadn’t thought about that. “I have a theory.” Cora looks up at Stiles while she continues. “I think he talked himself into it. He was acting weird the whole morning, totally preoccupied.” It definitely makes sense to Stiles. 

Lydia lets out a sigh. “He doesn’t think he deserves it.” Her voice is barely audible as she says it, and the truth of it hits Stiles hard in the stomach. “You have to make him believe he does.” 

The room is quiet for a moment as the words set in. “I’m afraid he won’t listen to me. He’ll shut me out.” The idea of putting himself out there and having Derek reject him, or worse, ignore him, is too painful to bear. “I don’t know how to get through to him. He’s so stubborn, he won’t let me in.” Desperation seeps into Stiles’ brain, and he starts to panic, thinking _how did I possibly believe this could work?_

Scott, who had remained quiet this whole time, perks up then, eyes lighting up. He looks to Cora, who has a similar expression on her face, and they nod at each other. “Stiles, I know how you can do it.” 

Cora continues the thought for him, wearing a smirk. “Learned any good, appropriate songs lately?” 

“Are you suggesting I _serenade_ him?” That was not something Stiles was expecting anyone to say. 

At his tone, Cora quirks her eyebrow and gives him a look. “Have you ever actually seen Derek’s face while you’re performing?” Okay, so Derek definitely pulls some faces when Stiles is playing, but he hadn’t really interpreted them that way. Or at all. 

“Also,” Lydia chimes in, “don’t forget that the first time you played for me I guessed that you were infatuated in about five seconds. It shows.” 

“I was there. She’s right.” Scott looks excited and eager, as if he were the one they were trying to help, and he’s finally come up with the answer. 

Isaac and Kira are nodding vigorously so it seems there’s a consensus. There’s only the small matter of the dread flowing though Stiles’ veins at the thought of playing and singing something purposefully intimate for Derek, and Derek alone. 

The more he thinks about it, though, the more he understands that it might be his only chance. He starts to say, “I don’t even know what I would play,” but then halfway through the sentience he realizes that, no, he knows exactly what to play. 

Scott, and the others, don’t seem to notice. “It has to be something you come up with. A song that has meaning to you.”

“Well, I actually, yesterday after school I was feeling crappy about it, and I decided to learn this song just to kind of get everything out? But now I’m thinking it might be perfect.” Stiles couldn’t have picked a better song if he had been trying. Maybe it’s nothing, or maybe some little tiny part of him wanted to play it for Derek, and he just didn’t know it yet. 

He doesn’t offer up exactly what song it is, and his friends don’t ask. The only person who would recognize the title (most likely) would be Scott but that’s just because they practically share a music library. Maybe he’ll tell them after, but for now, he wants to keep it private. 

Stiles feels a little exhilarated and a lot anxious as his pack mates help him plan out the minute details. Suddenly everything else, all the stress of school and finals and even his injury seems small in comparison to what he’s planning. He won’t have a whole lot of time to prepare and get the song down, and Lydia is mildly upset he’ll miss most of the not-dance, but he wasn’t super psyched about going anyway, especially since he had completely forgotten about it. Everything else just slides into place. It doesn’t take them too long to sort it all out, and Stiles’ friends excuse themselves soon after to give him time to practice. When they leave that’s exactly what he does and his father finds him in his room a few hours later. 

The Sheriff knocks on the door a couple times before entering. “It’s getting a little late, you hungry?” In the midst of the Sheriff’s apologizing the night before he promised Stiles they would go out for dinner, Stiles’ pick. 

Stiles hadn’t realized how much time had passed. He had the song mostly figured out but he wanted it to be perfect. “Yeah, sorry, I’ll be down in a couple minutes.” 

“Take your time.” 

 

Stiles decides to go easy on his dad and pick a familiar restaurant to go to. As they’re seated in the booth and given menus, the Sheriff starts to give Stiles some strange looks, while somehow avoiding eye contact at the same time. 

“What? Is there something on my face?” 

“No.” He doesn’t elaborate immediately, so Stiles motions with one hand for him to continue. “There’s nothing wrong, right? Nothing strange going on?” 

Stiles frowns. “No, why would you think that?” 

The Sheriff opens his mouth to answer but is interrupted by the waitress taking their orders. Neither of them have to look at the menu to know what they want, they always get the same thing at this place; waffles with strawberries and whipped cream. When they’re alone he says, “Just, the last time you had an ‘emergency pack meeting’ there was something wrong.” 

Stiles blushes slightly. “Everything’s fine. Different kind of emergency meeting.” 

“Okay.” He has definitely picked up on the blush, and looks like he’s trying to decide if he really wants to ask. 

Stiles decides he’ll have to know eventually. “It was about the whole Derek situation.” Stiles isn’t making eye contact, suddenly way too embarrassed to look his father in the eye. 

The Sheriff clears his throat. “Oh. So does that mean that you guys are…”

“Right now, I’m not sure. But I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.” Stiles gives his father as basic of an idea of what they have planned for tomorrow as he can. 

To Stiles’ surprise, his father no longer looks uncomfortable, but has a sort of distant yet peaceful look in his eyes. “You know, your mother broke up with me once, a few months before we got engaged.” 

Stiles’ father barely ever mentions Claudia, and it takes Stiles off guard. He recovers quickly. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“To be honest I don’t even remember why. She went to stay with her mother for a few days. I was a mess, didn’t know what to do.” His eyes crinkle around the edges as he smiles. “Have you ever seen the movie _Say Anything_?” 

Stiles nods then immediately starts shaking his head. “Oh, no, tell me you didn’t.” 

The Sheriff’s smile widens. “Yes, I did. I stood outside your grandmother’s house with a boom-box.” He chuckles a little at the memory.

“Did it work?” Obviously his parents got back together, or he wouldn’t be here right now, but he still feels compelled to ask. 

“Not exactly how I wanted it to. It started to rain after less than two minutes, and your mother let me in the house because she said she didn’t want my ‘fool ass getting electrocuted’.” Stiles can’t help the sudden burst of laughter as he tries to imagine the scene. “She came back home with me an hour later.” 

As the moment wears off and the memory fades, so do the Stilinski’s smiles. Remembering that Claudia was no longer here always put a damper on their reminiscing. 

“Anyway, my point is, while being a stubborn smart ass is in your blood, so is romanticism.” The Sheriff raises his water glass and Stiles brings his up to clank it. “Good luck, son.” 

“Thanks, dad.” Stiles takes his obligatory sip of water and feels just a little bit less nervous about what he’s planning to do. 

His father sighs as he sets his own glass down. “So, you’re done with finals. How did they go?” The conversation dissolves into school from there, and the evening continues on without another mention of Derek. It feels nice to spend this time with his father after being so self-obsessed the past couple of days. Being here with him, it reminds Stiles that no matter what or who he loses, he’ll always have his father. 

The two Stilinski men stuff their faces with waffles, and the Sheriff drops Stiles off at the house on his way to the station. Stiles can tell he feels uncomfortable leaving Stiles alone at the house overnight, but assures him that he’ll be taking several breaks to come by and make sure everything is okay. 

Stiles is feeling pretty tired by the time he gets up to his room, but has a little too much nervous energy flowing through him still, so he goes back to practicing the song. When he feels confident enough to stop and looks at his phone it’s past midnight. Not that Stiles had expected to get a whole lot of sleep tonight, but it would be best if he wasn’t a total zombie tomorrow.

Racing thoughts aside, Stiles doesn’t have a whole lot of trouble falling asleep. Staying asleep is another matter. 

He can tell the first time he wakes that it’s only been a few hours. Stiles isn’t sure what woke him, but as he tries to go back to sleep, every little noise is brought to the forefront of his brain. A dog barks a few houses down, the wind blows a tree branch against the side of the house. Even his own pulse is amplified. It takes at least 45 minutes to drift off. This time, he dreams. 

At first it’s all images. Memories. The first time he spoke to Derek in the woods looking for Scott’s inhaler; when Isaac cornered him at the station and Derek commanded him to back down; getting up in Derek’s face over his choice of women when Jennifer got away from them at the hospital. It’s not a necessarily unpleasant dream at first. But it transitions from stagnant memories to Stiles, alone at the edge of the forest, looking out on to a road. Illuminated only by two sets of headlights. 

Stiles has had this dream before. 

The two figures standing by the cars, unmistakably Oni this time, are firing shotgun shells into Derek with alarming speed, and the stench of gunpowder and wolfsbane almost overwhelms him. Even in the dream Stiles knows what is happening, what is going to happen. He runs toward Derek, collapsed in the middle of the road, and cradles his head in his lap. He watches the light leave Derek’s eyes. 

This time, though, it doesn’t end there. Stiles feels a hand on his shoulder, and he wrenches his gaze away from Derek’s lifeless face to look behind him. Somehow, it’s Derek standing there. Derek leans down and as he does an incredible pain hits Stiles in the back. He hadn’t noticed the knife in Derek’s hand. 

Stiles wakes with a start and a sweat drenched forehead. His phone tells him it’s 5:30, and he knows for sure he won’t be getting back to sleep any time soon. A shower sounds extremely appealing at that very moment. 

 

The Sheriff pulls in to the driveway only seconds before Scott pulls up to the house to pick Stiles up for school. This time Stiles was waiting at the door, and says a quick good morning to his father on his way to Melissa’s car. In all this commotion he had almost forgotten to be excited that this was the last day of school. Stiles has a feeling that what happens today will determine a good part of his summer. 

Scott pulls away from the curb and gives Stiles a series of happy and excited looks before speaking. “Well, how do you feel?” 

“Glad to be almost done with school for the year.” 

“Okay, yeah, obviously. But you know what I mean.” 

Stiles figured that Scott was talking about that night, but he couldn’t resist. “I don’t know. I’m nervous. But hopeful, I guess.” He really has no idea what to make of the ending of his dream, so he spent a lot of his morning ignoring it. “I’m honestly trying not to think about it too much.”

“Right, sorry, got it.” The look in Scott’s eyes is unmistakable, though. It’s pretty funny how excited Scott seems to be about this whole plan. It’s also completely adorable. 

 

Stiles’ day goes by very quickly. They’re juniors, so it’s not like he won’t see 95% of his classmates again come September, or that he really cares about them outside of the pack, but the last-day-of-school-excitement in the air is almost palpable. 

Nobody at BHHS really buys yearbooks until their senior year, so he only signs a few. Classes aren’t really classes in the sense that they don’t do any work. The only really exceptional part of the day is his last period, boxing up his ceramic creations to take home. Most of it had already been collected, but his vase just came out of the kiln this morning, and it looks fabulous. He takes extra care in packaging it and doesn’t take any pictures. It will make a great housewarming gift to Cora. 

Stiles meets Scott out at the car and insists on keeping the box in his lap for fear of it falling off the back seat and breaking, though he won’t tell Scott what it is. They stop at Stiles’ house and Scott waits in the car. 

The Sheriff is sitting on the couch in the living room when Stiles comes in and tosses his backpack on the kitchen table. “Hey, son, whatcha got there?” He points to the box cradled under Stiles’ arm. 

“Here,” Stiles hands the box off to his father over the top of the couch, “you can open it, but you have to hide it after. I’m gonna give it to Cora once the Hale house is finished.” He leaves his father to open the box on his own and runs upstairs to get what they really stopped for; the clothes Lydia picked out for him to wear to the not-dance. Once he’s gathered them and his guitar he comes back downstairs. 

The vase sits on the coffee table in front of the Sheriff. “Stiles, this is really beautiful.”

“Thanks, dad.” Stiles hadn’t really ever thought of himself as someone who was particularly creative, outside of a problem solving context. But the last few months, really getting in to this ceramics class and learning to play guitar, he’s starting to rethink that a little. 

“I’m sure Cora and Derek will love having it at the house.” At the mention of Derek Stiles’ heart picks up a little. Only a few measly hours left to go. Stiles nods at his father and reassures him that he’ll be home by 1am. As he’s walking out the door he’s stopped by one last call from his father. “Go get ‘em!” 

He has to chuckle about how cheesy it is, but Stiles appreciates his father’s sentiment nonetheless. 

 

Things are a little hectic when they get to Lydia’s house. Kira, Cora, and Isaac are already there, but none of them are dressed. Lydia’s makeup is done (which looks absolutely breathtaking, of course) but her hair isn’t, and she’s looking majorly stressed. Scott and Stiles take the initiative to shut themselves and Isaac in a guest room to suit up. 

The party isn’t supposed to be formal, but where Lydia is concerned, every event is formal. The boys are dressed in black slacks and slim fitting white dress shirts, with colored bow ties. All three have ties to match their date’s dresses (Isaac and Lydia agreed to consider each other their date for tie and dress matching purposes). Stiles has yet to see Cora, Lydia, or Kira’s dresses, but Scott’s tie is blood red, Isaac’s light blue, and Stiles’ a jade green color. Of course they had to buy actual bow ties that need to be tied, and none of them can quite figure it out. They emerge from the guest room and find Lydia curling her hair in the master bathroom.

Lydia takes one look at them through the mirror and laughs immediately. “Need some help?” 

“It can wait,” Scott says. “You look busy.” 

Stiles feels awkward just hovering in the doorway, so he says the first thing that comes to mind. “Uh, do you want some help?” 

Lydia laughs even harder this time. “As if. Just busy yourselves for a little while. I have to help Cora with her makeup before she can get dressed, then I’ll tie your ties.” 

The three boys follow instructions and settle themselves on the couch in Lydia’s elaborate living room. Isaac finds a deck of cards and they run through all the short little card games they know, end up doing a speed tournament. Stiles doesn’t notice how much time passes, but a while later Lydia enters the room, with Kira and Cora behind her, and clears her throat. 

All three boys turn their heads at the same time, and all wear identical faces of awe. At one time a few years ago Stiles may have drooled over how Lydia looks now, half of her hair pulled up in a knot and the rest spilling out around her shoulders in waves, wearing a powder blue lace cocktail dress. Now his chest just hurts seeing her, and Cora and Kira are no exception either. 

There definitely seems to be a vintage theme, and it makes sense with the bow ties and all. Kira’s hair is pin straight, and her dress is, as Stiles guessed, red, and tight with small off the shoulder sleeves. Her eyes are glued to Scott, who might actually be drooling at this point. 

Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever seen Cora with makeup on. Not that she needs it and isn’t beautiful without it, and she isn’t wearing a whole lot, but Lydia sure as hell knows what she’s doing. Her dress reminds Stiles of something Jackie Kennedy would have worn. The neck is high and broad, and it bunches at the waist, just to flow out below. She’s smirking at the look on Stiles’ face, like she knows how amazing she looks and is relishing in the fact. 

Isaac is the first one to speak. “Holy shit.” Lydia raises her eyebrows. “I mean, gee wiz, you ladies look absolutely beautiful.” 

“Better.” Lydia also looks smug at the reaction from the three of them. Kira and Scott are still just staring in to each other’s eyes. Stiles makes little gagging noises until Lydia throws him a look. “Now, your ties?” 

That’s all it takes to snap Scott out of his Kira-trance and stand up with his tie outstretched. One by one Lydia does them up, and when it’s Stiles’ turn she fusses with his hair a little afterward. “It’s no use, you know I’m going to end up tugging on it all night.” 

She sighs, resigned. “I know.” As if sensing the uptick in anxiousness Stiles feels at the thought of tonight, Lydia puts her hands on his shoulders and gives him a little squeeze. “Don’t be too nervous. It’ll all work out. I promise.” It’s reassuring considering that Lydia has yet to let him down to date. 

Surprisingly they’re a little ahead of schedule, so the girls sit down and join the tournament, which can actually be called a tournament now with more than three people in it. Eventually six o’clock rolls around and Isaac is declared winner, though Stiles would say the werewolves inevitably cheated with their enhanced senses and speed. 

They set off in two cars, Scott’s and Lydia’s, to the restaurant. Stiles suspects that Lydia may be trying to practice for prom next year, but doesn’t mention it. They’ve got plenty of time for that. 

A few weeks ago they decided to get sushi before the party, and though Stiles loves sushi, he can’t seem to eat much. His stomach is doing little flips and his palms are sweating already. Stiles has the sudden worry that his hands will get so sweaty that he’ll drop the guitar in the middle of the song. How mortifying would that be? 

Cora, sitting next to him, either senses or smells the worry on him. “What impossible scenario are you stressing about now?”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “You know me way too well.” Cora just nods, and waves her arm for him to fess up. “Uh, well, my hands are going to get all clammy and—“

“Oh my god are you worried about dropping the guitar?” So she’s definitely psychic. 

The mocking tone is not super appreciated, though, not while Stiles is so stressed. “Hey, no laughing.” 

She puts her arm around his shoulder. “Sorry. Just, don’t worry about ridiculous things. You might mess up, or be off pitch, or something else, but he’s still going to love it.” 

“I hope so.” 

Cora drops her head down to Stiles’ shoulder and they stay that way for a few minutes, listening to their friends argue about the merits of crab versus lobster. Stiles tries to enjoy the moment, while simultaneously hoping that it’s not the happiest moment that tonight has to offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready!!


	28. Chapter 28

The sun is just starting to set and a slight chill descends over Cora. Standing in the gravel driveway of the home that she and Derek, with some help, have rebuilt, it’s easy to remember the June nights of her childhood. 

Being a wolf she never feels that cold, so she stays where she is instead of getting her cardigan from Lydia’s car. Lydia, along with everything else she’s given or lent to Cora tonight, offered her car for Cora and Stiles’ use. 

Her phone buzzes with a text from Stiles. _All ready_. 

She had agreed to leave him alone to prepare himself and the room, and not to try to peek at what he had set up. Stiles is definitely a romantic and though she made an attempt to ignore her senses, she picked up a strong smell of wax and lilac coming from the bag that Stiles had transferred from Scott’s car to Lydia’s upon their arrival at the ‘party’ venue. 

Cora snaps out of her distracting thoughts and taps her phone a few times, bringing up Derek’s contact. She is more than just Stiles’ chauffer tonight. Cora types out a message to her brother and hits send. _Need you at the house. ASAP_.

She hopes that he doesn’t get too worried and freak out, but then again she hadn’t _explicitly_ said that she or anyone else was in danger, so it wouldn’t be her fault. Originally she guessed it would take Derek five minutes to get to the house, but somehow, he gets there in three. 

The Camaro approaches slowly, so Derek must already know that he’s been tricked, but he still pulls in the driveway. Cora guesses that Stiles can hear the tires crunch the gravel from inside, and shoots him one last good luck text. 

Since they arrived Stiles has been practically sweating anxiety so there’s almost no doubt that Derek can already smell his presence. He takes almost a full minute to exit the car and when he does he walks around in front of it and stands facing Cora, arms crossed in front of him, a weary expression on his face. 

Cora expects him to get angry, to demand an explanation. To be honest she only half expected him to stop and pull in to the driveway. But he just stands there silently looking tired. She gets the feeling that Derek doesn’t need an explanation or an apology for tricking him here. 

“Just give him a chance. Give _yourself_ a chance.” Cora walks forward, closes the four foot gap between them, and places her hand on his arm. He says nothing for a while, and she removes her hand and begins to walk away, assuming he won’t speak. 

Derek’s voice halts her before she gets far. “You look beautiful.” It wasn’t what she expected, but she takes the compliment. 

“Thanks, big bro.” She gives him an encouraging smile and pointedly stares at the door to the house, which is ajar and letting a sliver of soft light out on to the patio. When Cora looks back to her brother he sighs, takes a moment to steady himself, and approaches the door like one would approach a live explosive. 

While he ascends the walkway Cora hurries to Lydia’s car. She enters before Derek gets to the door and immediately turns on the radio and pulls out on to the road as fast as she can. If it doesn’t work and Derek rejects Stiles, then she will be on call to come back for him. Until then she plans on returning to the party and embarrassing Isaac as best she can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the perspective shift wasn't too weird, I figured this scene would be more effective from Cora's point of view. Short I know but more to come very soon!


	29. Chapter 29

Stiles is freaking out.

On their way back from the restaurant last night he had made his dad stop at a local drug store to pick up the supplies he needed for tonight, since his father still doesn’t want him driving. The first idea Stiles had was to light a bunch of candles, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good idea for Derek, especially in this house. So the alternative he came up with was to use fake LED tealights. It seemed cheesy at first, but all set up, they look really good. The kind he bought are still made of wax, so they’re semitransparent, and to make up for the lack of fragrance he picked up a couple of diffusers. The room smells very slightly (to Stiles) like lilac and vanilla. 

After everything is set up is when he starts to panic. What if the scent that he can barely detect is too strong for Derek’s more sensitive senses? What if he hates the fake candles and thinks they’re stupid? This worrying opens up the floodgates and by the time Stiles hears the gravel in the driveway crunch he’s halfway to a panic attack. 

Somehow Stiles calms himself down. Strangely the thought of just how much is at stake here actually levels him out instead of stressing him more. 

Footsteps approach the patio, then the door, and stop. It seems Derek is wavering at the door. Hesitating. 

After a few seconds Stiles’ palms start to sweat. What if he changes his mind? Right after the thought crosses his mind, Stiles hears the door creak open and Derek enter the hall. There’s about five feet of hallway before Derek enters the living room and he takes his sweet time. 

When Derek finally rounds the corner and enters the living room in earnest his eyes swivel around the room, taking everything in. Along with lining the floor and any meager furniture and shelving in the room (which is not much) with candles and the few diffusers, Stiles laid out a blanket on the floor, with two pillows. One he is sitting on right now, the guitar in his lap, and one on the other end, for Derek. If he chooses to stay. 

Eventually Derek looks around as much as he can and his eyes land on Stiles. In that moment all of the panic and anxiety Stiles had been feeling vanishes. In its place is a sort of desperation. _This has to work._

The two stare at each other for a while. Derek’s eyes are weary. “Sit?” Stiles keeps all expectation out of his voice. This won’t work if he doesn’t give Derek an out, he has to want to be here. 

Derek doesn’t speak; just looks down at the pillow and approaches it like it might bite. This isn’t a side of Derek Stiles sees much at all, and it’s definitely not the side he saw the last time they met. He is hopeful, though, that this is the side of Derek he needs. 

“I just wanted a chance to explain, what this, what you mean to me. And to tell you that I don’t want to give up.” Derek’s eyes are glued to the floor between them. He’s sitting with his knees bent and his arms curled around them. “But I didn’t know quite how to say what I mean. So I thought this might help me be clear. Will you… is that okay?” 

Patience is not Stiles’ strong suit but he waits the ten seconds it takes for Derek to look him in the eye, nod, and whisper a _‘yes’_ , before he nods back and begins. 

The opening chords are the hardest part, so Stiles devotes all of his concentration to that as he starts to pluck out the song. Before the first verse begins he takes one last steadying breath.

_“I’ve got my bags all packed and I’m ready to go,_   
_I’m standing outside of your figurative door._   
_And I’m ready for the flight_   
_Or to fall off a cliff_   
_But if it’s alright with you_   
_I’d rather not miss out on us._

_‘Cause your face is all I need to stay sane._   
_I’ve spent my life getting in my own way,_   
_So I could use something good._   
_I really need this to work out._   
_Of course the way things have gone it might be smarter to just cash out._

_You’re on my mind._  
 _The things that you say hurt me most of the time, but,_  
 _I’m sinking fast,_  
 _It’s alright.”_

It’s hard to concentrate on _playing_ the song and not _the actual song_ but Stiles is afraid he won’t be able to play if he gets caught up in the lyrics. Of course, that’s exactly what he hopes Derek will do. Stiles keeps his eyes firmly planted on his guitar. 

_“I’ve tied my stomach in knots and I’m ready to know._   
_I’d put it on the line if you’d just give it a go._   
_‘Cause I want to be the only one who holds you so close_   
_And tight_   
_And if it’s cool with you_   
_I’d really love to stay the night._

_You say you never want to be saved,_   
_Well, that’s okay,_   
_‘Cause I wouldn’t know how._   
_Just know that the best that I’ll ever be_   
_Is whatever you make me and whatever you are._

_You’re on my mind._   
_The things that you say hurt me most of the time, but,_   
_I’m on your side,_   
_And I know I’m not easy to deal with sometimes, but,_   
_I’m sinking fast_   
_It’s alright._

_All we wanted was what we were_   
_And what we were was young and naïve.”_

At this point Stiles can’t help himself, and he looks up at Derek as he finishes out the verse. 

_“I found my place in this world._  
 _It’s in your wake, in your wake, in your wake.”_

Derek’s face is the most open and vulnerable Stiles has ever seen it. It’s almost painful. The details of Derek’s face are lost in the tears forming in his eyes and the dim fake-candle lighting. 

It doesn’t matter though, because he only makes it half way through the last chorus. One second he’s struggling to play and sing through the tightening of his throat, and the next second Derek has flung himself forward, hands on Stiles’ face. Stiles barely has the time to toss the guitar aside before Derek is on top of him and their lips find each other’s on instinct alone. Stiles both struggles for air and is finally breathing again. The weight of the past few days falls off of him as he grabs at Derek’s shirt and pulls him closer, as close as he can be. Any distance between them is too much. 

Every drop of desperation is translated in that kiss. It’s rushed and hard and a little violent, but it’s perfect. That desperation burns out fairly quickly, though, and what comes after is much gentler. Derek’s hands cradle the sides of Stiles’ face, and at this point he’s basically sitting in his lap. It’s a wonder that Stiles hasn’t fallen back already. 

After what feels like a long time the two separate to breathe. Stiles rests his forehead against Derek’s and can’t help the laugh that escapes him. He feels Derek pull back just a couple more inches and look Stiles right in the eye. His thumb catches a stray tear that Stiles wasn’t even aware had fallen. 

“I’m in love with you.” It feels so right and real in that moment that Stiles has to say it. Every fiber of his being is screaming with it, and he can feel everything that’s flowing out from Derek, too. He’s never felt this exhilarated in his life. 

When Derek finally speaks his voice his hoarse, but it’s the best sound Stiles has ever heard. “I thought I could, I don’t know, ignore it, shut it out. But I can’t. I love you.” Derek’s voice is just a whisper, barely there. “And that scares me to death.” 

Stiles’ hands reach up to Derek’s shoulders and squeeze. “Listen. I chose this life a long time ago. I know that I can get hurt. I’ve _already gotten hurt_.” Derek looks down then, but Stiles brings one finger to his chin and forces him to make eye contact. “I know you will do your best to keep me safe. But I know that shit happens. You just have to promise not to put yourself in danger for me. That won’t help anyone.”

“I can’t promise that.” The words are out of Derek immediately. Stiles sighs, knowing this isn’t something Derek can budge on. “But I will try.” That, he hadn’t expected. 

Stiles closes his eyes again, resting his forehead on Derek’s. “Can you feel that, or is it just me?” The feeling flowing through Stiles is indescribable. He feels like he could fly, that in this moment nothing could hurt him or Derek, or break this promise they’re making to each other. 

“I can, Christ, I can.” 

They sit like that for a while, relishing the feeling of pure love flowing bidirectionally. Derek smooths his thumb over Stiles’ cheekbones occasionally, and Stiles brings his hands up and down Derek’s arms. They’re getting a feel for each other all over again, like testing out a muscle. 

Speaking of muscles, Stiles’ leg starts to cramp up, and as romantic as this whole position is, it’s rapidly becoming very uncomfortable. Derek notices either through the bond or because Stiles is twitching and gives him one last peck before standing up and reaching a hand down to help Stiles up. “Do you want to get out of here?” Derek still looks pretty raw, but his mouth is quirked in the beginnings of a smirk. 

“Thought you’d never ask.”

It takes a few minutes to collect all the candles together and pack up Stiles’ guitar. They decide to leave the diffusers for tomorrow. Derek helps carry everything out to the Camaro, then subsequently pins Stiles against the passenger side and kisses down his neck. “Have I mentioned,” he says between kisses, “how ravishing you look in that tie?” 

Stiles’ face flushes hot, along with other parts of his body as well. “No, I don’t believe you did.” 

“Pity.” Derek moves up his jaw and to his mouth, and they make out against the car until Stiles gets a chill from the night air. The sun has fully set and because it’s mid-June, there are no clouds to shelter them from the cold. When Derek pulls away he straightens Stiles’ tie. “Let’s go.” 

The drive is mostly quiet. Stiles assumes they’re going to the loft but doesn’t ask. As they edge away from the preserve and get into downtown, Derek breaks the silence. 

“Stiles, I’m sorry. For what I said a few days ago.” One of Derek’s hands is on the console between them and the other on the wheel, knuckles starting to strain. 

Stiles reaches out and settles his hand over Derek’s. The tension from his knuckles releases visibly. “Don’t be. Just never, ever do it again.” Stiles’ tone is light, but Derek nods and doesn’t smile.

“You are incredibly lovely, you know.” This time, Derek does smile. 

Stiles knows their situation is not perfect, and that neither he nor Derek are perfect. They’re going to argue, and they’re going to fight, and it could be a little rocky at times. But he has a tremendous amount of hope flowing through him at this very moment that it could work out, and that even at their worst times, they will still love each other. That they will be able to grow and share their lives with each other. 

 

And for once in Stiles’ life, it works out that way.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a wild ride, and I wanted to thank everyone who has commented and encouraged me to keep going. It's been almost a year since I started and I can't believe this grew from a random idea for a scene to a 70k+ fic. I'm so grateful to all of you guys, thank you so much! I hope that everyone enjoyed reading as much as I have enjoyed writing.


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